Ikinuku
by Kiki Cabou
Summary: An accident tosses Jack into the chaos of a developing empire. Bewildered and engulfed in the forward thrust of conquest, the samurai discovers new peoples, old friends, and something wildly evil at the center of it all.
1. Introduction

Hi, everybody!

Kiki, here.  Jeez, it's been a while since I've written SJ.  And it's really been a while since "The Village at the End of the Earth."  Yikes!  Anyway, I'd recommend that you read that story before you read this one, because a major character from it shows up.  Don't worry, it goes fast. :D  This thing, on the other hand … probably won't.  :D

Summary: An accident tosses Jack into the chaos of a developing empire.  Bewildered and engulfed in the forward thrust of conquest, the samurai discovers new peoples, old friends, and ultimately, that something wildly evil is afoot.

Disclaimer: Just doin' it for the love.  Anything you recognize from the show, I don't own.

Rating: **Very strong** PG-13.  No sex, but close.  There is some gore, some general unpleasantness, and, knowing me, some cursing.  The life reflected here is very gritty.

Dedication: This piece is dedicated to four cyber-writers who are remarkable SJ authors and very kind people besides.  They are, in alphabetical order: Ahmose Nefertari Smith, Alashiya, TurtleNinja, and YT(1).  -[: )  *bows in respect*

Note: There's some Japanese in this, marked in italics.  Obviously, Japanese is not my first language.  The few words and phrases I can manage are from a dictionary and basically just adornments, thrown in for color.  You don't have to understand them to know what's going on.  In fact, you'll probably figure them out from context.  They'll all be translated at the end, anyway, so don't fret about it. :-)

Well, that's it for now!  Strap in and hang on.  This is … 

_IKINUKU_. 


	2. One: Dead Trees

1. _Dead Trees_

THE DIRT PATH, kept clean by mysterious forces and shrouded in mist, wound its way through the silent forest. The quiet was broken by the soft thunk of wood against earth. The mist cleared briefly, and the samurai called Jack broke through the spidery wisps of gray air, waving a hand to clear his way.

It was a cold and gloomy Tuesday. The only reason Jack knew it was Tuesday was because he'd seen a calendar in an inn a few days ago. Of course, that was right before he'd been spotted by yet another group of drooling, uncouth, three-eyed, four-legged bounty hunters. Jack sighed. Jumping up from meals and fighting his way out of bars was getting old fast.

He saw his breath and rubbed his arms as he walked. He wasn't going anywhere in particular, just wandering through this forest trying to find a nice, hollow tree to camp out in. But the forest wasn't looking particularly inviting. The sky was slate gray, threatening rain, or more snow, if the ground was any indication. He stepped off the path and the powder crunched under his sandals. Winter was here, and all the trees were bare and dead. He hadn't seen a single animal all day. And day was quickly fading into night.

He didn't slow down, despite the snow flicking him in the face and the wind playing with his topknot. His "tree" plan, which he realized was kind of a stupid idea in the first place, hadn't worked out at all. He sighed and resolved to do without sleep tonight. Keeping himself warm (relatively) and moving was far more important. He didn't even fear being attacked; he hadn't seen a Wanted poster in weeks.

The darkness was like wool over his eyes. But from where he was in the foothills, he knew that about half a league away the great peaks of the White Mountains began their ascent to the heavens. He stopped next to a scraggly trunk to catch his breath.

There was a noise. A buzzing din coming from far away. It was echoing off the hillside ahead of him. Jack kept going, and it grew louder and louder. And finally, there were small lights in the distance. Jack drew his sword and began to run, for he knew this din. It was the kind of sound only a warrior was acquainted with – the yells, the pounding feet, and the mechanical screeches of a heated battle. Whoever was fighting might very well need his help.

The moon lit his way as he crashed through the trees. Bursting through a clump of bushes, he shielded his eyes and winced. The battle was going on under strobe lights, and it was blinding. Fortunately, he reacted fast enough and ducked . . .

"Aaaaaaah!"

. . . just as an unfortunate young man in cast-iron armor flew over his head and landed on the ground behind him, dead. Jack stared in shock, then narrowed his eyes at where the dead man had come from.

Then he stared in shock again. It seemed the battle was nearly over.

About 50 soldiers, each dressed like the poor human cannonball that flew over him a second ago, lay all around him, still and ashen-faced. Alien and human alike were piled around the clearing. All were dying or dead. About a foot in front of him was a helmet with blood leaking out of it. Stoic as usual, Jack turned the helmet over with tip of his _geta_. A human face frozen in a scream looked up at him from inside the headgear and he backed away.

There were two combatants left standing: a single soldier, heaving for breath, and an enormous, white-furred mechanical beast. It was roaring dramatically, waving its six clawed arms, stomping about on its two massive, stumpy legs, and blinking its eight eyes. It looked like a combination of a tarantula and the abominable snowman.

The soldier was slashing wildly at the beast, not really doing much damage. Jack narrowed his eyes, gave a battle cry, and ran in to join the fight. He leapt into the air and took off one of the monster's arms with one blow. Sparks flew. The beast roared in pain. The soldier looked surprised at this, then nodded in appreciation and lopped off another one of the beast's arms. The beast roared again, and retreated for a second.

Jack ran to the soldier's side. "Are you the only survivor, or has someone gone for help?" he asked.

"It's just me," came the weary reply. "That damn beast took out my entire battalion. I'll kill this thing if it's my last act on earth."

"MMMRAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

And the beast was on them again. It only had four arms now, but that was plenty. Jack beat back those attacking him, but the slashing was coming from every direction at once, and it wasn't long before he had lost his hair tie and kimono top.

His sweaty hair was down around his bare shoulders and he roared back at his foe, jumping about like a dancer and slashing with an intensity that would have looked random and frantic if not for its grace. The soldier, relieved to be ignored for the moment, put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. The claws came down on Jack in a rain of steel and sparks, and he beat them off one last time. But the claws were like swords themselves, and the soldier was standing way too close.

His last act on earth, as it turned out, would simply be to stand up straight.

The monster had just struck at Jack, only to have the blow deflected. The world went into slow motion as the beast reared up, roared louder and extended all of its limbs at once, to bring them back at Jack again. One sword/claw went flying away low to the left . . . and the poor soldier lost his head quite cleanly on the backswing.

"NO!" Jack yelled.

He gritted his teeth, tightened his grip on his sword, and let that enrage him. It was his fight, now. He was fighting for the honor of all those that had lost their lives here. He wouldn't let their sacrifice be in vain.

And so he took the beast one last time, blow for blow. He sliced. The beast sliced back, catching him in the chest. He yelled. The beast made fists and got off a few good punches. He took a flying leap and side-kicked the beast in the face. The beast roared and smacked him about, ripping the bottom half of his robe to tatters.

Finally, though, Jack pulled all his energies together, leapt high in the air, and with a holler that could have wakened the fallen army around him, brought his sword down clear through the thing's head. It gurgled a death-cry. But it wasn't quite finished. It caught Jack by the leg and hurled him through the air a ways before dropping dead.

Jack had a short, wide-eyed flight over the snowy ground. Then he landed gracelessly, bumping and bouncing like a missed football before coming to rest hard on his ass. There was a nasty crack.

At first he couldn't tell what happened. In nothing but his _fundoshi_ and sandals, he was honestly too cold to feel anything. He stood up and coughed. The snow was coming down, landing on his shoulders and stinging his chest wounds, which were leaking little red rivers over his quivering abs. He was nearly naked, quite injured, surrounded by dead people, and numb in his left leg.

"Must go," he muttered. "Get warm. Take stock."

He looked at nearby corpse. It was the soldier who'd gone flying over his head a while ago. The poor soul had died with his eyes slightly crossed. Jack said a fast prayer for him, hobbled over and stripped the body. He put on everything, from the boots to the helmet, packed his sandals and sword, and limped away dizzily in the direction he guessed the soldiers had come. Perhaps their camp was nearby.

Yes, he thought, with a faint smile. Everything would be fine now.

And then the snow turned into a blizzard and everything was suddenly _not_ fine. The wind was like a knife. It was impossible to see and overwhelmingly, bitterly cold. His limp turned into straggle. He could feel his armor sliding around on his body and knew without a doubt that the sliding was from all the blood. Nothing was clotting – those cuts on his chest weren't settling at all. His left leg was stiff.

After three hours of this nonsense, he was exhausted. He dropped to all fours and began to crawl. The wind whipped his face and rattled through his borrowed armor. Every breath was a struggle as he slowly froze from the outside in. But he pressed on.

His perseverance paid off. Finally, through the howling, pitch-black night, he made out a tiny lantern. There was a big wooden blockade nearby. He looked up – the wooden posts seemed to go up and up forever. Some kind of fortress. He'd made it to a fortress.

"_Jusai_," he mumbled, blinking like a drunk and scrambling towards the wooden wall. "There must be people. HELP!" he yelled.

The gale just blew the sound back at him. He crawled along, eyes scrunched, keeping the fence on his right, yelling "Help!" and then finally, in desperation, "_Tasukete_!" until he was hoarse. Until his lips bled.

His arms gave out. The rest of him followed suit. He collapsed into the snow with a grunt, and felt the world turn freezing and dark. It was a fight just to keep his eyes open – a fight that he had no strength for.

Snow crusted on his face. He lay there, hardly breathing, still and silent as a dead tree.

TBC

* * *

Translations:

_Geta_ – traditional wooden sandals

_Fundoshi_ – old-style undergarment

_Jusai _– fortress

_Tasukete_! – Help!


	3. Two: Out of the Frying Pan

Note: Hey, peeps! Turtle! Wassap, girl? How 'ya been? Busy, I expect. Hi, Ala! Thanks for stopping by. Lookin' sharp, Kat. SilverKnight, your stuff is awesome. Hope you enjoy this. On with the story :-D

* * *

2. _Out of the Frying Pan_

"Hey, Azro! Over here!" a bundled-up soldier shouted. He was kneeling next to the wooden barricade, digging in the snow.

His friend, a burly warrior in cast-iron armor, stopped muttering about patrolling the perimeter in a blizzard. He came over with a torch and shone it on what his friend was unearthing – an unconscious, limp soldier who'd collapsed just shy of the fortress gate.

"By the Hand of Aku!" Azro exclaimed as the uniform emerged. "He's from Troop 49! Last we heard they'd been attacked in the mountains! Quick Fwee, get him inside!"

Fwee picked the body up. Azro shone the torch closer, illuminating the straight planes of Jack's helmet. The soldiers hurried through the snow and the wind, Azro with the torch and Fwee with the burden. Their cold legs cracked as they ran through the large gate. They skidded to a halt in the entryway of the lodge. Heat from a roaring fire hit their faces and they were bathed in light.

"Raise the alarm!" Azro hollered, puffing his way inside. "Call a healer! Call a nurse! We have wounded! HURRY!"

Everyone in front of the fire scattered. Fwee set Jack down on a furry rug, then left with Azro as two figures appeared. One was a haggard-looking cat woman, with great green eyes and fur as violently purple as her clothes were drab. The nurse. The other was a gray cloak that seemed to glide along. The healer.

They both went over to Jack, the cat woman leading the cloak by the arm, and knelt by him on the rug. The cat woman began to strip him. As she unclasped the torn armor on the sides of the torso and lifted it off, she gasped. His chest was a bloody, scratched mess. By the time she'd gotten him down to his rather curious underwear, his wounds were spilling over onto the rug.

"Crap," she said, seeing all the blood. "He's beyond feeling, Seven. Go."

The gray cloak snapped into action. A hand, surrounded by a powerful blue aura, bloomed from the cloak, and pressed down on Jack's chest. The cat woman alternately held down his legs and arms, depending on which was flopping at the time. A cloth was thrown over the patient's face, and a good thing, too. Although he was supposedly beyond feeling, his silence was only throat constriction. His face curled into a silent scream as he arched his back in pain.

The wounds were very serious. There was no time for anesthetic – or mercy.

Finally after what seemed like hours the light went away. The skin on his chest was an angry red, but it was whole again. The cloak began to shift in different directions as Seven scanned Jack's body, searching for other injuries. The cat woman braved a look under the cloth. The man's face had relaxed somewhat, but his breathing was shallow and sweat was popping out in beads on his forehead.

Seven stopped at Jack's left hip, feeling an unnatural bump there.

"Found something?" the cat woman asked.

"He dislocated his hip. Popped his leg clear out of the joint," Seven growled, in a voice that was gruff and vaguely female, and stood up. "Help me, Ari. Lay a hand across his belly and hold him still."

Ari did as she was asked. "Ready," she said.

Seven responded by picking up Jack's leg. Jack gasped. The agony jerked him to consciousness for a few seconds. He stared at Seven, and then at Ari.

"He's awake," the nurse said.

"Not for long!" was the reply. The healer yanked Jack's leg straight up into the air. There was a loud crack and an explosion of pain.

He passed out.

* * *

Chirping. There were birds chirping outside the window. He opened his dark eyes and blinked in the weak light of just-past-dawn. He blinked again. As his vision slipped into focus, so did his situation.

In the first place he was perfectly comfortable. He lay on his back on a soft, heated mattress, propped up slightly by pillows, with warm blankets coming up under his arms. A large pillow had been stuffed under his knees. He fingered his clothes (loose, soft pajamas), wiggled his toes in his socks, and lifted the top covers to discover that he'd been wrapped quite snugly in blankets from chest to foot. His hair even felt light; someone had washed it. Nestling himself a little, he realized that he was warm, clean, dry, and (he assumed) safe. Since arriving in this miserable world, he could count the times he'd been four for four on one hand.

But he wasn't in any pain, which confused him. He distinctly recalled collapsing by the wall. The snow. Death's fingers around his throat. Blood. So much blood. The fire. That horrible crack. He felt under the covers and touched his hip. It was a little sore. But … the cat woman. The cloak. If they were real and not some fever dream, then they had helped him. He would have to thank both of them promptly. Maybe they were still around.

"Hello?" he called out. "Hello!"

He heard footsteps and Ari appeared in the doorway. The cat woman was indeed real. Jack couldn't help but stare.

She snapped a salute with a furry, purple paw. "Ari of unit 3 at your service, sir."

Jack corralled enough brain cells to salute back, albeit with the wrong hand. Ari came and sat down at his side with a friendly smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So soldier, how are you feeling?"

"Uh, much … better, thank you," he said. It was the truth, although why she called him 'soldier,' he had no idea.

"Excellent," she said, her tone bright and false. "I'm glad I didn't have to wake you. I actually have to ask you some questions. It's a memory test."

"Very well. Proceed."

"Okay. Name?"

He looked away, unsure. Only the first question and he was already at a loss. Something in his gut told him that 'Jack' was the last thing this creature wanted to hear. He shook his head and muttered, "I don't know."

Most of the other questions got the same response. Beyond "What day is it?" and "Where are you?" (to which he replied, "I think it is Wednesday, January 8th," and "In bed") he was apparently without a clue.

He flunked the test. Spectacularly.

"Perhaps you could refresh my memory," he suggested. "Will you tell me what you know of me?"

"Of course. Temporary amnesia after prolonged exposure and injury is quite common, sir. Don't feel bad. Your name is Kit Renakalli. You're a foot soldier, an Ipshen, in her majesty's army. You belong to Troop 49."

Jack blinked at her in disbelief, but she was looking at her smooth claws. By the time she looked up again he'd softened his glance. She went on.

"We got your name off your uniform. Anyway, your troop set out from the main camp, near her majesty's palace at Gunzai. They had a mission to cross the White Mountains and conquer those lands beyond them. But the last transmission we received was that your troop was caught in a blizzard not far from here and that they were under attack."

"I remember the attack," he said quietly.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart. Anyway, you're in the infirmary of the Tarrenko military base. And at this point, Kit…" Ari mechanically took his smooth hand in one of her furry paws. "It looks like you are the sole survivor of this tragedy. I'm so sorry."

With her 'weary yet sympathetic' face firmly on, she thought that she'd performed her bit rather well. She was waiting for a reaction of some kind: a memory jolt, or even shock or tears. But her patient just looked utterly blank.

"How long was I asleep?" he asked.

"J-Just one night," she said, surprised by his abrupt subject change.

"And who tended to me?"

"Well, Number Seven healed you, and I cleaned you up and put you to bed."

"_Domo arigato_. I am grateful for your care," he said with a smile.

There was something different about this soldier. She returned his smile with one of her own. A gentle smile. Genuine.

"And I am sorry your troops were lost," he said.

Her smile faded immediately. "_My_ troops?"

Ari's heart sank. It was all clear, now. The man before her was handsome, polite, articulate and grateful. Forget Troop 49 – he didn't belong to _any_ troop in this accursed empire.

This man was a stranger. And if he turned out to be an enemy, she'd be blamed for helping him. She'd go to The Wall. She'd be damned before she went to The Wall.

"Sorry, sir…"

The slim knife was out of her blouse pocket, in her paw, and at his throat before he could react. She laid her other paw on his chest to keep him still and glared at him.

"… But you just blew your cover. Now explain yourself. Who are you, and how in the hell did you end up in Kit Renakalli's battle armor?"

Jack gulped.

TBC

* * *

Translation:

_Domo arigato _– Thank you very much


	4. Three: Soul Survivor

Note: Hi, Ahmose! - _waves_ –

* * *

3. _Soul Survivor_

"Ari, I …"

"Spill it, honey. I don't have all day."

"I assure you that I am in no condition to attack you. If you drop your knife, I will answer your questions."

Ari didn't budge. Jack licked his lips.

"Please?" he asked.

After an icy pause, Ari put her knife down and backed off. Her eyes were suspicious green slits. Jack introduced himself, quietly and succinctly. When he was finished, the nurse was struck dumb, her mouth hanging open.

"I knew there was something different about you," she said finally. "When I took off your armor on the rug, your sword was the weirdest-looking thing I'd ever seen. It – it's safe in the armory, don't worry." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I've never seen Samurai Jack. Not even a Wanted poster. I thought he was a myth, to tell you the truth."

"Well, I am quite real."

She nodded. "Listen, this should stay between us, Jack. Nobody here has seen you, but you're an official enemy of the Empire. If you were discovered, you'd be killed. Hell, _I'd_ be killed! I think your best bet, at least for now, would be to pose as Kit Renakalli."

Jack wasn't so sure. "But I know nothing of this Empire," he protested. "And worse, I know nothing of Kit Renakalli. I would give myself away immediately!"

"No, you wouldn't. Around here, battalions stay separate from each other, and record-keeping is laughable. The accepted fact is that every scruffy bastard in Troop 49 bit the dust … except you."

"But impersonating a dead man is wrong."

She shook her head. "You're not hearing me. You have to recuperate. And an identity that no one in his right mind will question just fell into your lap. It'll take more than blankets to cover your ass, Jack. Understand?"

Jack sighed and looked at her for a long moment, making up his mind. Then he nodded.

"All right. Let's try this again. What's your name?"

"Kit Renakalli. I am an Ipshen. The sole survivor of Troop 49."

"So glad to see you have your memory back," Ari said, and flashed him a sly grin. She opened her mouth to speak again, but suddenly she went utterly still, her eyes wide, her ears pricking this way and that.

She heard stomping, big boots against the stone floor. Crude, harsh voices. Laughter. Finally Jack heard it, too. They stared at each other.

"Hey Ari! 'Ya busy?" came a deep voice from outside, flanked by drunken guffaws.

Without preamble Ari scrambled on top of Jack, blankets and all, and straddled him. First Jack was surprised. Then he was horrified. Ari was rocking back and forth and moaning, moving just enough to make the bed squeak. Shamed and flushing, Jack froze up like a board underneath her.

"Oh!" she moaned, frantically prompting him to play along.

He didn't. She kept rocking and moaning like her life depended on it until they both heard "… Guess so." When the footsteps faded, it took her a moment to stop rocking. Then she dropped the act completely and pricked up her ears again. The silence buzzed.

With a sigh of relief, she clambered off Jack and sat down at his side.

"Sorry," she said. Then she winced, possibly at the inadequacy of the word.

Jack stared at her, stunned.

"You get used to it," she finished stoically, seeing his wide eyes.

"Used to it?"

Ari ignored his question. She plastered on a smile and said, "Here. Let me fluff your pillow."

Jack allowed this, too shocked to protest that he was fine. She worked slowly. Jack didn't know where to look after what had just happened. He certainly couldn't look at Ari. He kept his eyes on the ceiling until she had finished and the silence had become unbearable.

"Do you do … that … for every soldier in your care?" he asked, and forced himself to meet her eyes.

"No," Ari said. Her voice quivered slightly. "I do that for every soldier who asks me to."

Jack had seen things and he had heard things, but he had never seen anything quite like Ari, and he had never heard anything quite like that. He laid a hand on her arm. She pulled away as though she'd been burned.

"You're probably hungry. I'll bring you something to eat. Just rest, I'll be back in a minute."

Babbling something about soup, she disappeared in a blur of purple and gray. Jack lay back against the pillows. His 'nurse,' if that was indeed her job description, was definitely not here by choice. He'd have to get her to talk.

She was back in a moment with a bowl of stew and some soft bread on a tray. She offered it to him and sat down at his side while he ate. The infirmary's other beds were empty. Ari was determinedly looking anywhere but at him.

Jack sipped his soup. It tasted terrible, but he made no comment. He was more interested in the slight changes of Ari's features, and the way her ears twitched. He had figured out long ago that one of the best ways of gathering information was to say nothing at all and let things take their course.

So he dug into the bread and watched Ari out of the corner of one eye. She was losing some kind of battle with herself, nervously bouncing one of her furry legs up and down, clicking her claws, and gently biting her lower lip with her pearly fangs. And then she snapped.

"I used to be a real nurse," she blurted out.

Jack looked up, his cheeks stuffed full of bread, and blinked at her.

"I worked in a town called Brinecreek. It was a nice place, and we had a great hospital – excellent doctors, top notch ER. I loved my job. I was good at it, too. I made Head RN last year." She paused. "And then they came."

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"The Goons. The uh, the Gunzai Empire. General Dogface and her scabby troops came into Brinecreek and announced that we were being taken over by the Empress of Gunzai. And since we'd all _heard_ of the Empress of Gunzai, well, everyone panicked. The Gunzai Empire is ruthless. If you submit, life is just a little better than death. And if you resist…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

"What happened in Brinecreek?" Jack asked. He had a terrible feeling that he already knew the answer.

"Hell," Ari said simply. "The troops razed the town. Half the men were killed and the other half I saw taken away. To be what, I don't know. My husband was a doctor. He was taken. I don't know what's become of him. And I…"

Suddenly, a stream of images went racing through Jack's mind. Burning homes. Screaming children. Whips and chains. Death and mayhem. The steady, percussive march of a troop of soldiers, carrying protesting cat-women over their shoulders. And there was Ari, standing on a scaffold surrounded by other dirty, unclothed, frightened creatures. Someone was pointing at her and shouting "10 Imperial Dollars!" Someone else was grabbing her ears and taunting her. "_You'll make a good nursie, won't you_?"

"Jack? Jack!"

He snapped out of it. Ari was looking at him in concern. He'd broken out in a cold sweat.

"Jack, what's the matter?" She mopped at his brow with her sleeve.

"I … I saw …" he stammered.

Ari leaned back then and scrunched her eyes. She shook her head and blinked furiously. Then she swore.

"This can't stay between you and me. Too many damn NOSY ALIENS AROUND HERE!" she yelled finally, whirling around to face the door of the infirmary. When nothing happened, she huffed in exasperation and called, "Unt-Ork, get your little gray pumpkin butt in here! Stat!"

"Beep-eh-doop!"

The reply was high-pitched and insulted, as near as Jack could tell. Then the door opened and what could only be described as a "traditional" extraterrestrial stepped in. Its bald gray head, nearly engulfed by its huge black eyes, shone in the dim light. Its nose and mouth were tiny. Two slim gray antennae pricked this way and that. But this particular alien, rather than being tall and skinny, was plump and small and wore a yellow dress with a white apron. It seemed to be quite annoyed with Ari.

"Anga-taka-wingee-doopo!" it peeped angrily, skittering over to the bed. "Chukla! Beep-eh-deepy."

This creature was a lot less freakish than some of the other aliens Jack had encountered. In fact by alien standards it was kind of cute. But those eyes were unnervingly large. Ari just glared rudely at the newcomer.

"Ah farg off, ya paperweight!" Ari turned to Jack with a sigh. "I can always tell when Unt-Ork is listening in on a conversation. She does a 'thought-switch' and gives herself away. You started sweating and I saw cherry blossoms … I'm sorry."

"You should not apologize for your memories," said Jack, as Unt-Ork hopped up on the bed and toddled over to him. She was about as tall as a four-year-old human.

Without any hesitation she gently poked his forehead with one of her antennae and began to feel his face with her tiny hands. Baffled, Jack stared deeply into her obsidian eyes. A green alien language seemed to zip by across her corneas. Finally, one set of symbols stayed and winked at him, then disappeared. He looked to Ari for an answer.

"She's just figuring you out," said the cat-woman. "Don't mind her."

Unt-Ork backed off two paces, blinked once, and opened her tiny mouth. "Greetings, Samurai!" she said. Her voice was high and reedy, but not unpleasant. She gave Jack a gigantic Cheshire-cat smile and finished, "Rest assured, I will keep your secret."

Jack blinked at the pair of them. Meeting cat-people and aliens had not been on his agenda when he was wandering through the forest. Then again, he hadn't expected a snow beast or a brand-new identity. He remembered that he still had to thank the healer.

Of course with _his_ luck, there would probably be a talking octopus under that cloak.

TBC


	5. Four: Things Get Hairy

4. _Things Get Hairy_

Jack spent the day in bed. He took the opportunity to sleep. No on came in to bother him except Ari, with his lunch and dinner. Unt-Ork came in a bit later to show him over to the toilet.

The next day, the soreness was gone and he was restless. He felt fine and was itching to leave his room. Only Ari stood in his way. She absolutely refused to let him leave. They argued for a few minutes before Jack finally had enough. He gritted his teeth, found the Japanese prince in him, and let it rip.

"You will let me up _now_!" he ordered her, his voice rough and firm.

Ari burst out laughing. Jack was highly offended at this; he crossed his arms and said "hmph." This just made her laugh even harder. Only when he gave her his patented narrow-eyed glare did she gasp and sputter to a stop.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry," she said. "I know you're a mighty samurai and all, but you're just so cute when you pout."

"I am not cute!" he shot at her, his voice jumping half an octave in indignation.

She snickered. "You want to know the real reason I can't let you up?"

"Yes."

"Because people would recognize you immediately, and all hell would break loose."

Jack hadn't thought of this. Slightly ashamed, he ducked his head. "Oh."

Ari snorted. "Yeah. Do you know why you've been alone all day?"

He shook his head, feeling a little stupid now.

"Because Unt-Ork slapped a Quarantine sign on the door. Good thing, too. Those guys who brought you in … well, you don't remember, but they didn't get a good look at you. If they had, they probably would've left you in the snow."

There was silence. Ari took the opportunity to cross her arms and look at him expectantly. Jack finally sat up and met her gaze.

"I … um … I apologize for my earlier remark," he mumbled. "Perhaps a disguise is in order, then?"

"That's a great idea," Ari said, and smiled. "And I happen to have just the thing."

Jack's curiosity was piqued. "Really?"

"Oh, yes. See, Unt-Ork can help you out. She has this bizarre ability to make hair grow really fast. Remember when she was touching your face?"

"Yes," said Jack, who couldn't quite see where this was going.

"She was searching for hidden hair. It's sort of a habit with her. Her race is completely bald, so hair is highly valuable to them. I think it's their currency, actually. Anyway, Unt-Ork was sort of like their mint. Well, at least she was until the Empire captured her."

"I do not understand. How will this help me?"

"Have you ever worn a beard?" Ari asked by way of an answer.

Jack shook his head. He carried a small razor with him and shaved every morning.

"You will now."

Ari whistled. Unt-Ork, who had apparently been waiting for some kind of cue, skittered into the room, crumpling up a badly-written sign that must have said "Quarantine" at one point. She hopped up on the bed, tossed Ari the crumpled up sign, cracked her fat little knuckles and smiled at Jack, who opened his eyes wide and tried to back away. This only buried his head deeper into the pillow.

Unt-Ork ignored this. She put her hands on his face, the same as she had done yesterday. A yellow glow surrounded her tiny fingers and Jack suddenly felt a funny, itchy sensation. First it was his cheeks, then his jaw. Then something was tickling his lip and he felt positively furry.

The little alien backed away and held up a huge hand mirror, obviously very proud of her work. Jack stared at his reflection … or someone's reflection, anyway. His hair was down around his shoulders, loose and wild, and his mouth had disappeared. His face was nothing but straight black hair from the underside of his nose to two inches past his chin.

"So happy to see you're feeling better, Ipshen Renakalli," Ari said.

There were footsteps then, and two soldiers marched into the room. One was tall and skinny. The other was short and fat. They both saluted. Jack saluted back, not knowing quite what else to do.

"Ipshen," said the tall soldier, "we have orders to bring you to General Digger to make your report, now that you are out of quarantine. Are you feeling up to it?"

"I am," Jack replied in the most commanding tone he could offer. "I need a few minutes to prepare myself and then we can go."

The soldiers saluted again and left.

Ari wasted no time. "Unt-Ork, get him a suit of armor from the clothes rack and his you-know-what from the armory," she mumbled.

Unt-Ork nodded, hopped off the bed and scurried out the door.

"I must have an audience with the General?" Jack asked.

"Yep. Now pay attention," Ari said, handing him fresh clothes as he peeled back the covers. "Lie about what happened out there, and do _not _mention Samurai Jack. Then ask to be transferred to Troop 50. They're stationed here under the General's command. You have to stay with us," she finished. She sounded a bit desperate now. "There's a lot you need to know."

"And I insist on hearing it from you."

Ari smiled. Just as Jack finished pulling on the clothes, Unt-Ork came running back in with an armored chest and back plate, leg plates, a helmet, a long dark cloak, and Jack's sword in a wide, standard-issue Gunzai scabbard.

* * *

The soldiers were leaning lazily against the wall when Jack emerged from the infirmary, fully dressed and carrying his helmet. He was an impressive sight. The silver armor complemented his broad shoulders. The crest of the Empress on his chest-plate (a finely-wrought ouroboros) winked in the torch light. The burgundy cloak flowed to his calves. His dark eyes twinkled. He twitched his lip, unused to the itchiness of the beard, and his mustache swished from side to side.

"Let us be off."

The men walked down the hall, three abreast. Jack walked with purpose. He didn't look back. A turn of his head or a goodbye glance at Ari would be far too suspicious.

* * *

Ari smiled to herself a few minutes later. Jack had gone and she was helping out in the laundry, folding sheets. She had a few extra minutes and the maids needed all the assistance they could get. The smoother things ran around here, the more people had a shot at surviving the coming week.

Most of the maids were silent and somber as they worked out bloodstains and pulled clothes from the giant heated dryers, but Ari couldn't keep the grin off her face. Sniggla, the head laundress of the place, narrowed all four of her orange-colored eyes at this. Happiness was something to be stamped out. She waddled her fat, smooth, salmon-colored self over to Ari, determined that the cat-woman be as miserable as everybody else.

"And what are you grinnin' about, ya slant-eyed fur bag?" she roared.

"Nothing that concerns you, melon ball," she bantered back.

Sniggla puffed herself up with ire and a few maids giggled until she threw some hot water at them. A small group had forgotten about their work entirely. They were chatting animatedly in a corner. It seemed that someone had gotten a hold of a Wanted poster with a familiar picture on it.

"I saw Samurai Jack!" said the maid holding it. She laughed.

It made Ari very relieved that Unt-Ork had worked her magic in time. As for the maid's claim, well … she had given her charge a very thorough bath two nights ago. She had in fact seen not just Samurai Jack, but _all_ of Samurai Jack.

"Wouldn't it be so great if he came here?" someone asked. "Then maybe he could help us!"

Everyone else tittered in agreement. Sniggla waddled over and started shouting at them to put that garbage away and get back to work.

Ari just ducked her head, folded her sheet, and smiled.

TBC


	6. Five: Yazzi Digger

Hi, all! Alashiya: thanks as always for your support. YT and SilverKnight: thanks for the comments. Glad you're both enjoying it. Amychan: thanks for reading!

Here's more. Enjoy.

* * *

5. _Yazzi Digger_

Jack and the two soldiers marched through the massive Tarrenko fortress until they reached a long, wooden corridor. The tall, strapping man on Jack's left was Ipshen Xio (ZHEE-o), and the short, pug-faced man on his right was Ipshen Zip.

Jack tried not to stare too much. The hallway was made entirely of some unidentifiable dark wood, buffed and sealed so it shone. Torches flickered on the walls, lighting up different doors set in the paneling. The gold signs on them said things like "Command" and "Conference." They had reached the center of the fortress.

Everything around here was quite lavish, Jack realized. He wondered how all of this wealth had been acquired so quickly. His thoughts were soon brought back to earth when he slammed into Xio, who had stopped walking. Jack stumbled back. Xio cast him an annoyed glance and knocked on the nearest door. It said "GEN. YAZZI DIGGER."

"Enter," said a gruff alto voice.

Xio opened the door, shooed Jack inside, and closed it.

Jack looked around at the office he had just entered, and felt a slight pang at his new surroundings. The room, like the hallway outside, had wood paneling and soft light that didn't extend very far. _Tatami_ and pillows in various bright colors and patterns littered the floor. All the tables were low. A long scroll was nailed to a nearby wall; three lines of delicately-penned _kanji_ ran down the center. A _haiku_, Jack realized, and his heart gave a leap. It was unfamiliar but still beautiful.

_Asagao ya _

_Tsurube torarete_

Something moved in the darkness; Jack never read the third line. But when the something materialized and came out into the light, the samurai forgot about poetry entirely. His mouth hung open; he stared quite rudely.

General Yazzi Digger was female.

A female _what_, Jack couldn't quite decide.

Her blood-red Gunzai chest plate was slung haphazardly over her shoulders and revealed a half-buttoned red blouse beneath it. She wore red pants that reminded him strongly of _hakama_. A curious bone necklace hung across her exposed collar-bone. It looked (on closer inspection) to be made of polished human canines. But Yazzi Digger's face held Jack's attention better than her jewelry, for she was as much a dog as Ari was a cat. Her fur was snow white. Most of it was short, but a considerable bit of it tumbled down her back like a horse's mane. Her eyes were a sickly yellow color. Her wolfish snout twitched, and she licked her long fangs and stared at him.

"Come to me," she commanded. There was something icy and dangerous in her rough voice.

Warily, Jack followed the order. He stood stock still as she wandered around him, surveying him. Finally she stood in front of him and crossed her arms. She looked rather pleased.

"They tell me you are Ipshen Renakalli, the only survivor of Troop 49."

"That is … that is correct, General."

"Please, my dear. Call me Yazzi," she finished, getting far too close and grinning at him.

Jack's eyes went wide, but he didn't falter. "Yazzi," he repeated.

"But not in public, you understand," she cooed.

Jack attempted speech a couple of times, failed, blushed clear through his beard, and stared at the floor. He stayed that way until he heard a huff, retreating footsteps, and the click of a lamp turning on. When he at last looked up, Yazzi was sitting where there had once been darkness at the back of the room. She had settled herself on a fluffy pillow in front of a low table.

"Your report, Ipshen," she said curtly, picking up a pen.

"Yes," said Jack, and he cleared his throat. "We were attacked by a snow beast while attempting to cross the White Mountains. The beast was very powerful. I was the last survivor of the battle, myself wounded when…" He thought fast. "A warrior appeared. He killed the snow beast and ran off before I could thank him. It was all I could do to get to the gate of Tarrenko, and I remember nothing else before waking up in the infirmary."

Yazzi blinked at him. "That's it? Did you even get a good look at the warrior?"

"No, General. It … It was dark. And I was losing quite a bit of blood. It was hard to see, and harder still to concentrate."

"So I gather. And what are your plans now?" She asked, leaning forward on the low table. The movement showed a bit too much of her furry cleavage and Jack looked away.

"Well, since I have no troop, I will request to be transferred. Perhaps…" He steeled himself and kept his promise to Ari. "Perhaps I could be transferred to Troop 50."

He steadied his gaze on Yazzi and waited for her answer, wondering what she would say. As it turned out, her face did most of the talking. At his mention of Troop 50 she seemed to melt. On anyone else, the glazed eyes and silly smile would have been endearing. On her, it was just cause to flee a room.

"Why, what a coincidence, Ipshen! That's one of _my _troops! And you're in luck. It just so happens that I have one opening left. You simply must join us here at Tarrenko."

The way she said 'opening' made little hairs stand up on the back of Jack's neck. He willed his face to be still and made a stiff bow.

"Thank you, General," he forced out politely. "I will."

She nodded at him with a sly smile, her eyes raking him up and down. Just as he turned to leave he heard her voice behind him.

"I am taking Troop 48 on tonight's mission, Ipshen, so you are spared. But when I call for Troop 50, I expect you to be there."

"As you wish," he said, and strode out.

Once outside the closed door, he met up with Xio and Zip. The two soldiers looked like they were in a great hurry. They practically pounced on him and shoved him on his way. It was apparent that their intentions were friendly, however.

"What did she say?" Xio asked as they made haste down the corridor.

"I have been transferred to Troop 50," Jack said.

"Sweet!" said Zip. "We're in it, too! Hey, that means you have come!"

"Come where?" asked Jack.

Xio snorted. "With _us_, doofus. We have to sit around all night!"

"I do not understand," Jack said as Xio pulled him into a jog. "Why must we hurry to sit around?"

Zip laughed as he tried to keep pace. "Because no one in their right mind will sit around _sober_. We need to get there before all the good stuff is gone! Get ADAP!"

"ADAP?" JAck inquired. They were running by now.

"As Drunk As Possible," Xio translated, giving Jack a wondering look. "Hell Renakalli, I know you were injured, but come on!"

Jack just nodded. "I apologize. I am having some … memory problems."

Even as he said this, he was formulating a plan to get out of drinking with these guys. He had more important things to do. Xio and Zip didn't seem to notice his slight reluctance, though. The three of them raced back through hallways and courtyards to reach the main lodge. Xio and Zip were laughing and talking but Jack, rubbing the back of his neck and staring around as he ran, couldn't shake the feeling that he'd somehow been violated just by stepping into Yazzi Digger's office.

TBC

* * *

Translations:

_Tatami_ – a type of flat mat which often decorates the floors of traditional Japanese homes.

_Kanji_ – one of the three "alphabets" used in writing Japanese. Reserved for traditional words of Japanese origin; it is pictorial, rather than phonetic writing, and is originally from China. Probably more than you needed to know. LOL

_Haiku_ – traditional Japanese poetry of three lines with the syllable format 5 – 7 – 5. It focuses on the explosive beauty of a moment. Not one word is expendable.

_Asagao ya / Tsurube torarete / Mora – i mizu_: a Romaji representation of an actual haiku by the famous poet/nun Chiyo-ni (1703 – 1775). The haiku translates as: "Morning glory/ The well-bucket entangled / I ask for water." The poet, seeing that a beautiful morning-glory has wrapped itself around her well-bucket line, goes to a friend to ask for water rather than disturb the flower.

_Hakama_ – A loose, flowing pair of trousers, often worn by Japanese warriors in training.


	7. Six: The Wounded

6. _The Wounded_

Jack voiced his desire not to go drinking when they were within sight of the barracks. Xio and Zip protested. Jack protested back. Soon his comrades' expressions had changed from slight amusement to total exasperation.

"Look man, if anybody's got a right to get blasted, it's you! You don't even have to _go _anywhere!" Zip argued.

But Jack would have none of it. His health was still a bit shaky, he said.

Xio shrugged and said it was his loss. Zip called him a pussy. Jack ignored them both and wandered away. He listened to their retreating footsteps and, satisfied that he was alone, wandered across the yard until he was in sight of the main lodge and leaned against a tree.

With his back to the frozen wood, he stared out at the bleak sky and wondered what the hell he had gotten himself into by staying here. He knew he had to hear Ari's story. He knew he had to do something to help her. But he also knew that if he _did_ help her, he stood a good chance of being discovered and an excellent chance of being killed for it.

The soldiers left at dusk for a nearby town called Orzwitha. Nobody knew why. Ari hailed Jack (she had to call "Kip!" three times before he turned around and she chided him for it) and he passed the time wandering the halls of the fortress and covertly helping out in the laundry.

He was sitting outside on the porch again at midnight, letting the crisp winter air clear his head from the stuffy heat of the fortress, there were soft footsteps behind him.

"Kip?"

Jack turned around immediately. Ari stood there, saggy-eyed and bundled in rags, tapping her furry foot on the porch.

"Yes?"

"The men are back. We need your help in here."

Jack got up immediately, dusted some stray powder off his behind, and followed her inside. They were soon hit with a blast of warmth from the huge fire in the main hall. Soldiers and maids alike were skittering everywhere. It was a frenzied ballet of bodies, buckets, and bandages.

"More water!"

"Get those blankets over in a corner, you lazy slug!"

"C'mon, Doll-face, haul ass! We don't got all day!"

"Where are all the goddamn healers? We got seventeen wounded coming in!"

"Wounded? What happened?" Jack asked Ari, rather bewildered.

"Troops 48 and 50 engaged a village. We're receiving wounded. General Dogface led the troop herself. They're thinking she might be dead."

Ari's last sentence reeked of unspoken hope. She jumped into the fray, yelling, "Calm down, Fwee! I'll go find the healers. Ipshen Renakalli, follow me!"

Jack ran after her as she made haste across the room, carefully keeping his face still. What, he wondered, was a troop doing 'engaging a village?' Fully trained soldiers against civilians? No. That couldn't be right. Could it?

The two of them left the room, shot off down another hallway and finally reached a trap door in a corner. Ari threw it open, revealing the top of staircase. With a meaningful look at Jack, she made her way carefully down, disappearing into blackness after only a few steps. Jack followed. The staircase was hollowed out of the earth, and it was winding and perilous. As soon as they had left the faint square of light from the trapdoor above, the walk was black as pitch. Jack felt his way along the wall and took a few clumsy steps.

"Ipshen?"

"Hm?"

"Here."

His hand was placed on something fuzzy (Ari's shoulder, he realized) and thus guided, he was able to walk with more confidence; they made better time. At least they reached bottom, revealing the beginnings of the fortress dungeon, which seemed to stretch out quite far in all directions. The earthen corridor was lit only by the lights of torches and the glow of Ari's eyes.

Soon they reached a large dusty cage. The iron bars stood floor to ceiling. The place stank of unwashed clothes and sweaty bodies. Jack could see black shapes moving about in the shadows.

"Ladies," Ari said politely. "We have customers."

She was answered by a mass groan and shuffling. Jack saw cloaks moving as the occupants of the cell slowly got to their feet. Ari pressed a small button on the wall and the barred gate peeled itself back, sliding off into the earthen wall with a loud rattling noise. She reached in and took one healer's hand (it was blue and scaly, Jack noticed) and helped the creature out. Jack imitated Ari, and soon everyone was out of the cell. There were ten cloaks all together.

"Is everybody here?" Ari asked, trying to peer into the darkness at the back of the cell.

"All except Seven," the healer with the blue scaly hand said. "She's tired."

"Then let her sleep. Let's go. Ladies, this is Ipshen Renakalli. He'll help as many of you as you like."

Jack made a small bow, out of habit. His armor clanked. Immediately, all of the cloaks turned in his direction.

"Ipshen," said a small voice from the back, "I'm so tired. Could you carry me up those stairs? Then I'll have more energy and I can heal better."

"Of course," Jack said. "Climb on my back."

As soon as the healers realized Jack would carry them, they all began to clamor noisily for a ride.

"He's not a tram, people. Settle down," Ari chided gently, leading a few healers up by the hand.

The trip up was much less traumatic than the trip down. Ari shut the prison door, and she and Jack led most of the healers out into the lodge area.

It was chaos. Maids were scurrying about with water and bandages. Unt-Ork ran by with an enormous pail of water. Soldiers and a few civilians were sitting around, their faces ashen, or lying deathly still on the floor. The healers flew into action. Jack watched the wounded yell in agony as they were treated, then slump in exhaustion. Maids picked them up on stretchers and carried them off to parts unknown.

Just then, Yazzi Digger stumbled in through the doorway, limping and growling. She was using a spear as a walking stick. Her wolfish snout twitched nervously. She licked her fangs and spat blood onto the carpet.

"General Digger!" Sniggla yelled, hurrying forward. Instantly the creature was surrounded by healers and soldiers.

They made a big fuss over the General and sat her down in front of the fire, shoving a few soldiers out of the way. She snarled as a healer worked some magic on a wound in her furry thigh. When it was over, she stood up and brushed the healer off without so much as a thank-you.

"I need a bath," she said fiercely.

"Yes, you do," Sniggla agreed. She turned toward Ari, who was mopping a wounded civilian's forehead and whispering something.

"Hey! Fur face!" Sniggla shouted. "General Digger needs a bath! Get over here!"

Ari dropped her bucket of water and came forward. In a place like Tarrenko, everybody knew how everybody else had ended up here. Sniggla knew all about Digger and Brinecreek. And since misery was her stock in trade, she took great pleasure in reminding Ari of that awful day in any manner she could.

"You can go to your personal bathroom, General," Ari said, smoothing her apron and plastering on a smile. "Just start walking. I'll be right with you."

Digger grunted at her and hobbled off. As soon as the general had turned the corner, Ari whirled around and grabbed Sniggla by the throat.

"If you have any sense of self-preservation," she hissed, and here she flexed the claws of her free hand, "You won't go to sleep tonight."

Then she shoved the fat maid into the nearest wall and ran off after Digger. Jack didn't even see the spat; he had other things to attend to. Unt-Ork ran by him, wheezing and carrying a huge bucket of water. It was her third run through the place. She tripped and fell, and the bucket went flying.

Water, water everywhere. The rug was soaked. So was Jack. Unt-Ork dropped to her stubby little knees, panting and blinking her huge eyes in exhaustion. Jack knelt next to her and grabbed the bucket just as a nasty-looking soldier approached, gingerly holding a broken arm. He was still waiting for a healer.

"That's the third time, you!" he grumpily yelled at Unt-Ork.

She said nothing. She just panted.

"You know what that means, alien? Three strikes. Your scrawny ass is going to The _Wall_."

Her huge black eyes shot open, and she clung onto Jack with a piercing screech. Jack put an arm around her. He had no idea what this "wall" was, but he faced the guard anyway.

"She is not going to the wall," he said.

The soldier answered this with something unrepeatable. "I'm getting this break taken care of," (a healer had just arrived and grabbed his arm,) "and then I'm taking that alien!"

After a few seconds of blinding agony, the guard looked at Jack, breathing hard, testing his newly healed arm, and appearing more determined than ever to get his way.

Jack faced him with a dangerous glare. Unt-Ork hid behind his legs, blinking and shaking.

"Give it _here_, damn it."

"No," Jack said quietly.

There was a tense pause.

"Oh, I get it," the guard finally said. "You want it for yourself! Farg, dude, that thing is so tiny! You're a freak. Well, whatever. It's yours. You can keep it as a pet. What's your name, anyway?"

"Kit Renakalli."

Jack was a bit frightened at how easily the lie rolled off his tongue, but that seemed to satisfy the man. He mocked Jack some more and then left. Both Jack and Unt-Ork stood there, he doing his best to look firm, she shaking like a leaf.

Jack noticed this. It seemed the situation was settling a little in the main hall. The noise had dropped to a dull roar and there was nothing immediate that he could to do help. He took Unt-Ork by the hand and they slipped out into an empty hallway. Jack knelt so he was relatively eye-to-eye with her.

"It is all right," he said. "Whatever the Wall is, you will not go to it. I will protect you."

Unt-Ork stared at him for a moment, nodding but unable to speak. Tears slipped out of her bottomless black eyes. She fell forward and clung to him hard, pressing her face up against his chest so that all he could see was the top of her gray head, and began to sob.

* * *

At one in the morning, the main hall had been emptied of wounded and re-filled with muttering soldiers. Half the troop reeked of alcohol. Jack sat quietly in the back next to Xio and Zip, whose choice of cologne seemed to be Eau d' Vodka. The hall went quiet as Digger walked in, freshly bathed and dressed.

A smile tugged vigorously at Jack's lip. Someone (Ari, he figured) had done a lousy job of drying her fur. It was sticking out in all directions and made her look rather like a large Pomeranian. In spite of that, she walked tall and proud to the front.

"Good evening, Troop 50," she said. "We are now thirty strong. We have a new member who comes to us from the defunct troop 49. Stand up, Ipshen Renakalli."

Jack did as he was asked. Everyone stared rudely. He sat back down. Someone nearby hiccoughed drunkenly and said, "Yay!" He was quickly hushed.

"Troop 48's fight against the evil city of Orzwitha was unsuccessful," Yazzi went on. "We made fifteen kills, wounded four, and took thirty prisoners, but most of the troop was wounded. That's where you come in, gentlemen. You will finish what they started. We will return tomorrow to re-engage. Be prepared to go at sunrise. That is all."

And with a swish of her tail, she left. The soldiers looked around at each other and staggered to their feet.

Xio smiled sloppily at Jack. "Less gessome shut-eye," he slurred. "Sunrise izzurly."

"Indeed," said Jack. "But I am confused. I heard someone say that Troop 48 challenged a village, not a city."

"Tch. Village, city … doesn't matter," the soldier said carelessly. And then suddenly, his voice warped into a crisp monotone and his eyes took on a fiery glow. "Outsiders are the enemy. We must protect the interests of the Empress. We love her. We must get her more land, more people, more wealth. MORE!"

Jack gaped at him. But after a second Xio shook his head, flapping his jowls, and seemed to return to his former blissfully intoxicated state. Jack was still staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

"Hey, don't let the flies in, Renakalli. Come on."

The two of them went off to the dormitory, following the troop. Jack was the very last person to slip out of the main hall … and the only one who looked back.

* * *

TBC 


	8. Seven: Lucky Number Seven

Thank you YT and TurtleNinja for the latest reviews. To everybody else who's hanging in there, muchas gracias.

* * *

7. _Lucky Number Seven_

It was past midnight. The main hall was quiet and dark, for the fire had nearly gone out. A lone figure streaked past the dying embers in the hearth. A sliver of moonlight caught on his face.

Jack swished his mustache and ran on. He'd left his armor in the dormitory and wore only his long underwear, which would allow him to keep quiet if not warm, and padded past the fireplace on bare feet. He shouldn't have been out of bed this late, but a promise was a promise. He hadn't forgotten his duty to thank Seven, the healer who helped him in the first place.

Jack hurried down the same stone staircase. The basement was blacker than pitch, as it had been earlier that evening, but this time Ari was not here and he had to settle for stumbling down blindly. When he finally reached the bottom, his hand brushed something on the wall. He backed up and touched it again. The bottom was hard and he gripped it easily. The top was fluffy. A torch.

Pulling a pilfered match from a pocket on his chest, he struck it on the wall and lit the fluff. The torch burst into flame, illuminating the earthen halls of Tarrenko's underbelly. Jack took the torch off the rack and wandered down the musty earthen corridor. There, to his left, was the same cell as before.

He shone the torch between the bars, catching a whole load of sleeping cloaks in the light, and then hung it on a post behind him. He tapped on the metal bars. A husky voice beyond them answered his noise immediately, if not coherently.

"Hnnyuh?"

"Excuse me, but I am looking for the healer called Seven," Jack said. "Where is Seven?"

A healer shuffled forward, into the light of his torch, head bent. One blue scaly hand peeked out as it gripped one of the bars.

"Shh. Not so loud, soldier. Over this way. She had to repair some major injuries two days ago and she's recovering her strength. What do you want?"

"Please. Forgive my loud voice. I am looking for Seven. I want to express my gratitude. From what I understand, she saved my life. May I speak to her?"

"A Goon soldier expressing gratitude? Now I've heard everything. All right kid, hold on."

The healer retreated into the darkness of the cell and momentarily another one was at the bars, head bent like the first.

"Yes?" said the healer in a husky alto voice, accompanied by a yawn.

"Are you Seven?" Jack asked.

Jack expected a reasonable response: a nod, or some verbal affirmation. The healer did neither. She gripped the bars hard with both hands – tawny, human hands, Jack noticed – and was stiff and silent. There was a tense pause.

"Great Gaia. Say that again," she demanded quietly, sounding very awake now. Her voice trembled. "Say anything."

Jack blinked, confused by her request, but obliged her just the same. "I was wounded, and I believe you took care of me. I wanted to thank you."

The healer white-knuckled the bars, but still did not look up, as though bracing herself for a disappointment.

"J-Jack?" The quiet word was almost a sob. "Oh, please, you h-have to be him. Tell me you're h-him."

That voice. She'd strung enough words together, and Jack realized he knew that voice. One tanned hand was stretching between the bars, reaching for him. He took the first hand, and then the second, and soon found himself in an embrace.

Everything came back like a lightning flash.

The road …

The rising sun …

The wind in her hair …

"Sankra?" he breathed, bringing his arms around her.

"You came back," she whispered, and she was openly crying now. "You came back to me."

They stood there, silently embracing through the bars, for what felt like ages. It took both of them a little while to calm down.

"Why do you hide under this cloak?" he asked finally.

"Regulations."

Jack would have none of that. He gently pulled the hood away from her face. She looked tired, but exactly as he remembered her, from her little nose, to her round cheeks and long black hair, to her big eyes, which were closed. She immediately turned her face away.

He was puzzled. "Sankra, I am here. Will you not look at me?"

"I can't. You'll leave."

"Nonsense," he said. "Please."

So she turned towards him and lifted her long black lashes. He gasped. Her eyes, once beautiful glittering orbs of amber set in her tanned face, were lifeless and milky. Useless.

It was a minute before he found his voice. "What happened to you?"

"The Empire happened," Sankra said in a flat, miserable voice. "They tromped into our village just before dawn … torched all the houses and took everyone prisoner. When they learned I was a healer they figured I could be useful, and they didn't want me to escape, so they blinded me. I saw a staff, and a purple light… Everyone in this cell had it done to them. We're all sightless."

"That is terrible. But no one in your village was killed, correct?"

"I don't know," she said, breaking the embrace but keeping one of his hands in hers. "I don't know what's become of anyone. That's the worst part, I think. At least Uta didn't live to see any of this."

Jack sighed in agreement. "Sankra, you saved my life. And I do not know precisely what is happening here, but it is evil and I must try to stop it. I will free you. I will free everyone I can."

"What's this about freedom?" said the blue scaly healer, coming forward. "Who are you, young man?"

"Call me Kit," Jack said. "Kit Renakalli. I must go. Goodnight."

Reluctantly he pulled away from Sankra, blew out the torch, and ran up the stairs, his mind churning. The hell with tomorrow's mission – he had more important things to think about.

The healers didn't sleep a wink all night. They were too busy haranguing Sankra and insisting she tell them who this "Kit" guy was. Finally, she relented and explained, on the condition that they tell no one else. They were stunned.

"Samurai Jack!" hissed one cloak. "Here! To challenge the Gunzai empire! That man is the gutsiest creature I've ever seen!" She paused for a moment. "Or _not_ seen, I guess."

Everyone else groaned.

* * *

Jack was tiptoeing by the fireplace one last time, heading for the dormitory, when the air suddenly stank of musk. He dropped to a crouch and was utterly still. There was a noise, then, a _click click click_ of nails or claws on the stone floor. His first thought was that it was Ari, but Ari didn't smell like badly cured meat.

A figure came out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Jack's heart, which had shot into his throat a few seconds ago, nosedived into his belly and beat there ferociously. It was Yazzi. She was dressed in a white robe. The moonlight hit her face and gleamed on her fur as she growled and sniffed the air.

"Come out, human!" she snarled, facing the window. "I know you're here. I can smell you! Where are you?"

Jack made no sound, determined to escape detection. He stepped gingerly across the rug, keeping his eyes on Yazzi, and moved towards what he thought was the door beyond the hearth. Instead he sidestepped the wrong way, and whacked into a suit of armor that was hanging on the wall.

The suit tumbled to the floor with a ruckus that could have woken every soul in the place. Strategy was forgotten; Jack bolted for the doorway. He wasn't fast enough, though. Yazzi was in front of the doorway with almost super-human speed, blocking it off with her muscular, furry body, and growling in Jack's face.

Jack did not have his sword. He backed off, set his jaw, and glared at her.

"What are you doing here, human?" Yazzi asked, moving into the room and stalking towards Jack with a delicate strut that was almost predatory.

Jack kept backing away. He wasn't very happy about having to explain himself to a 'talking demon dog.' "I was seeing a friend, General," he said.

"Did my orders somehow change without my knowledge, Renakalli? You were not to leave the dormitory. You disobeyed. But I like you, so you will not be punished in the usual fashion. Indeed, after the first few times, you might even grow to like it."

Something in her voice made the hairs on the back of Jack's neck stand up. He kept his face absolutely still, though. He was weaponless and Yazzi was almost circling him. She clapped her hands once, and out of nowhere, two bearded guards appeared. They wore minimal armor over their underwear and no helmets, but each carried a wicked-looking spear.

"Take him to my bed chamber," she commanded them, and pointed at Jack.

Jack ran.

It was not a courageous choice, but it turned out to be imminently practical; Yazzi's order had been no empty threat. He shot off down a stone passage, the two guards hot on his heels, looking for anything he could use to defend himself. He settled for a huge torch. Skidding to a halt and whirling around, he streaked the torch right past the guards' faces, in an effort to scare them away. They both backed up and then ran from him, screaming bloody murder.

Jack had accidentally set their beards on fire.

Yazzi was not pleased. She pursued Jack herself. But Jack saw her move and was off like a shot. The light of his torch streaked out behind him as he ran. And ran. And ran some more. After an eternity of jogging along, he was beyond lost in the catacombs of the maids' quarters.

* * *

Unt-Ork blinked at the ceiling. She was wired, lonely, and unable to sleep. The visions were coming hard and fast tonight, in-between paralyzing memories of her rocky, gray home and friends she knew she would never see again. Unt-Ork hated the long days and the oppressive work and the threat of the Wall. But mostly she hated the night, because she bunked with Ari and Ari had a tendency to shout and cry when she dreamed of bad things. Worse, Ari dreamed a lot. A wailing mew rose up from the bunk beneath her and she pulled her thin, filthy pillow over her head, covering her small ear holes.

Ari gasped and sniffed and mumbled "No!" a few times. And then…

"ANOOK!"

Even with the pillow protecting her ears, Unt-Ork twitched at the explosion of sound. She sat up and waited for it to continue.

Ari sat up with a start and another "NO!" and took a big gulp of air, like she was choking.

"No!"

There were squeaks and shifting covers as she brought her furry legs up and grabbed her shins. And then there was the sound that Unt-Ork hated most in the world: the hollow sound of wet sobs being coughed into that warm, quiet, private place between chest and knees.

Anook.

Ari's worst dreams were always about her husband. She had no idea where he'd ended up. In her worst dreams she always saw him dead – hung, crucified, beheaded, gutted, dismembered – and Unt-Ork couldn't help but see it too. Her gift for understanding people's minds had become a curse in this horrible place. Tears dribbled out of her obsidian eyes and plopped onto her dirty sleep clothes. She wasn't sure if they came out of sympathy or exhaustion or helpless rage, but Ari was the strongest person she had ever met and it terrified her when Ari cried.

Ari kept weeping. So the little gray alien dragged her pillow across her face to clean up, clambered off her bed, and went down to join her fellow prisoner. The two sat in silence for a while. Ari sniffed and wiped her face with her paws and calmed down. In a few minutes it was as though no one had yelled out anything, like the dream had never been. Ari collected herself. She even managed a small smile for Unt-Ork. The alien smiled back. It was pointless to try and sleep, so she was about to suggest they stand at their tiny window and wait for sunrise.

That was when they heard it: panting outside their door. They looked at each other.

"Don't move," Ari commanded, sounding strong and sure as usual.

Unt-Ork nodded, fearful. At this time of night there shouldn't have been anyone wandering around the maids' quarters – at least, not anyone who was supposed to be there. The cat-woman went for the door.

* * *

Jack was cold and out of breath. On the plus side, Yazzi was nowhere nearby. He hoped she'd given up the chase. Exhausted, he gasped for air and leaned against a wall, still holding the torch. A door opened directly across from him and Ari poked her head out. She didn't waste time looking surprised. Instead, she knocked the torch from his hand. It extinguished itself on the damp floor, leaving the hallway in darkness.

Then she dragged a very confused, still panting Jack into her room and closed the door. Jack instinctively wrapped his arms around himself. It was a tiny, squalid, freezing space, with nothing more than a bunk-bed and a chest of drawers. Unt-Ork peeped delightedly at Jack and waved. Jack smiled at her and turned to Ari. His smile quickly disappeared; she was glaring at him, holding up a small candle for light.

"Let's have it, genius. What did you do?"

"I went to visit Sa … Seven, and General Digger caught me on the way back," Jack said. "She intended something … shameful as my punishment."

"High Hooleeti," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Jack…"

"Kip."

She eyed him. "Whatever. Yazzi Digger is a demigod around here. She does what she wants. She's had her way with half of troop 50! And that includes you, now."

If this information bothered Jack, he didn't show it. "Indeed. Well, as long as I am here, I think now is an appropriate time."

"Pardon?"

"I need to know what is happening here, Ari. Will you tell me?"

The pause was big enough for a horse to fall in. Ari was still a bit upset and bleary-eyed and looking at another long day tomorrow. She threw a quick look at Unt-Ork. The kid needed her rest, too. This was hardly the time for stories. But there probably wouldn't be another opportunity, and Jack needed his questions answered. She sighed and politely motioned at the low chest of drawers.

Unt-Ork grabbed her blanket from the top bunk and sat back down beside Ari on the bottom. Ari threw a ragged blanket around her shoulders like a shawl, and passed another one to her guest.

"Have a seat," she said.

* * *

TBC 


	9. Eight: The Dead of Orzwitha

Before I press on with this next chapter, I have to say something to two people: First, SilverKnight: Sankra is NOT the girl from the fields. Put the knife down. It's okay, honey. Breathe. Just breathe. :D Secondly, I want to say hello to a new reviewer, Star Eevee, who wrote in with some very kind words. First of all, I'm very pleased to make the acquaintance of another friendly soul (in a long string of friendly souls) who enjoys Samurai Jack stuff. I'm very flattered that you think Sankra was a character on the show, but she's actually an original creation who made her "debut," I guess you could call it, in a fic I wrote called "The Village at the End of the Earth." I think I began this story by recommending a reading of that one first. I think. My memory is pretty bad.

You made a telling statement about the lack of detail, which I would like to address. The style of writing that I employ, particularly when writing Jack stuff, is meant to be sparse and generally free of everything but the most vibrant, relevant language. Obviously, I'm an amateur at this. I won't succeed every time, or even most of the time. But the reason I attempt to tell a story in this way is because it is (hopefully) the verbal equivalent of the striking art on the show. I have also been influenced by the _haiku_, a type of poetry which I'm sure you know aims to delight in the moment and not clutter up the event with too many words.

Another aspect of the style I'm using is the inherent power of space, of things not stated. I know I'm writing for a group of very smart people, and I respect all of you too much to give you something easy. I firmly believe that all of you can infer a world if given a few well-chosen phrases. Of course if those "well-chosen" phrases stink, then by all means say something. LOL

Cheers, all! Here's more. By the way, this chapter is GORY. Heads up.

* * *

8. _The Dead of Orzwitha_

"It all began about two years ago," Ari said, gathering her blanket around her. "There was this tiny kingdom in the Central Bluffs that had never bowed to Aku, or at least slipped under his radar for a long time. The king had two children: a son, Eog, and a daughter, Culipsis. Culipsis felt she should be the heir to the throne, but the king was stubborn and old fashioned, and when he died…"

"The kingdom went to the son," Unt-Ork finished. She knew this story, but Ari told it better than anybody.

"That's what started it," Ari continued. "People from the Bluffs told me that Culipsis was really angry at her father's decision. Now they _say_…" The cat-woman lowered her voice to a near whisper. "They say Culipsis wanted the throne so badly that she made a deal with Aku to get it."

Jack's eyes flashed before he could compose himself. The lamplight flickered.

"But of course that's probably donkey turd," she continued in normal voice, "Because no one's ever made a deal with Aku and lived."

"Indeed." Jack pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders. "And do you know any more?"

"Well, I did hear some garbage about blood-red clouds floating around the Bluffs for three days, but the one thing I _do_ know is that Prince Eog was murdered."

"What?"

Ari nodded soberly. "A maid found him stabbed to death in the palace kitchen. Everybody loved Eog. The whole damn kingdom went crazy looking for the killer, who was never found, by the way, although thirty innocent farmers got hanged. And suddenly Princess Culipsis came forth as the King's heir. She was going to 'end the madness,' or so she said. She crowned herself Queen, took her army, and went off to create the Gunzai Empire. And now her kingdom stretches from the Wild Forest in the North, to the Swamps of the South, from the White Mountains in the West, to the Ends of the Earth in the East. It's not the biggest chunk of ground – we're only about 200 villages – but it must be the bloodiest. There are uprisings all the time."

"So many people have died," Unt-Ork added sadly. "And more will die tomorrow."

"I know," Jack agreed. "Is there anything I can do?"

Ari gave him a sad smile. "You're already doing it, honey. You're bringing us hope. Now get out of here and get some sleep."

* * *

The next day dawned bright and cold. Jack felt an icy wind on his cheek and he blearily opened his eyes. The sun was just coming up. He was disoriented. The mattress was too hard. The blanket was too thin. And someone was shoving him.

"Hey shake a leg, man, we gotta go!" It was some soldier he did not know, with straw-colored hair and pale blue eyes.

"Huh? Wha – oof!"

Jack was unceremoniously dumped out of bed and his face met the dirty stone floor. From beyond his field of view heard, "Chop chop!" and felt a clap on his shoulder. Groaning, he pushed himself up, straightened out his long underwear and threw on his winter armor.

The kitchen was crowded. Bakers were busy preparing food. Metalsmiths were setting out weapons. Soldiers were swarming like ants, grabbing hot buns from the oven with one hand and spears with the other. Jack joined the fray.

Yazzi Digger ran into the kitchen and hollered, "Move it! Now!"

The soldiers scattered out into the courtyard. Jack stuffed a bread roll in his mouth, grabbed a spear, and set off at the tail end of the line. He ran right by Yazzi.

Apparently she'd forgotten about the incident last night. She slapped his ass and grinned at him. He scowled at her.

A huge, armored soldier shouted, "Into the truck! Let's go!"

And Jack went. An enormous cart, nearly full of soldiers and pulled by ten huge alien horses, was waiting in the courtyard of the fortress. Jack was the last man in. The hatch went up at the back, sealing him in with the rest. Nobody spoke to him and he didn't dare ask any questions for fear of blowing his cover.

He knew they were going to "re-engage a village" today. With any luck that meant they would try to talk some sense into the villagers, or maybe just look threatening and try to frighten them into joining the Empire – peacefully.

But Jack never had any luck.

The cart lurched through the snow for an hour, cleared several rises, and then finally stopped at the edge of a very small valley. The soldiers got out, glum and silent. They turned as one to face the valley, and that strange red glow came back into their eyes. Jack raised an eyebrow. Then he looked down.

What he saw was a canvas of white, dotted with dark smudges that used to be houses. There was once a bustling town here. But now it was just a smoldering circle of burnt out buildings, its streets covered in snow, next to a frozen silver snake, which Jack realized was a river. Orzwithians were milling about despondently in torn clothes. The six yellow eyes set in each purple, alien face were drooped and heavy with loss.

Jack had seen this kind of broken look before, in Edo. He clenched his fists.

Yazzi Digger arrived on horseback and galloped to the front of the troop. She pulled the reins hard and her horse, in full battle armor with a braided mane, reared up with a snort.

"People of Orzwitha!" she bellowed over her noisy animal. "This is your final order to submit to the will of the Gunzai Empire! If you do not, you have two choices! You may abandon this land, or you may die here!"

Jack was horrified. A huge flock of screaming six-eyed purple people – men with axes, mothers with children, lovers hand in hand – began to run for the snowy rise at the opposite end of the town. Yazzi watched the loud retreat with a satisfied grin … until of course, her eyes came to rest on one unmoving citizen. It was a young man.

He set his face, glared at his fellow townsfolk and yelled, "Stop! All of you!"

Most of them halted, and pretty quickly. Apparently he had some clout in the village.

"In case none of you noticed, we have nowhere to go!"

His words stung with truth. The burnt-out village was quite lonely – there looked to be no shelter for miles.

"Well, I'm not signing a treaty with that she-dog!" a woman shrieked as the child in her arms began to cry. "The Empire killed my husband yesterday!"

Yazzi's smile had disappeared. "An unfortunate accident," she boomed. "If you sign the treaty, I will make sure all of you are … compensated for your losses."

The villagers hardly looked convinced.

"This is wrong!" a woman yelled. "You'll do here like you do everywhere – hand the women over as slaves to your soldiers, reward your underlings by giving them our homes, and work the rest of us to death like machines! If we leave, we will starve! If we fight, we will die! And if we submit…" She spluttered in shock and outrage. "It isn't fair!"

"Who said life is fair?" Yazzi hollered back. "Now, decide! I'm getting tired of this!"

"I don't want to be a slave!" someone screamed.

"Make your damn choice!" Yazzi roared.

A silence fell over the crowd. The entire group was still for the longest time, staring at Yazzi and the troops.

The only warning the Gunzai soldiers got was a whirring noise. A massive stone hurtled through the air and struck Yazzi's war horse square in the face. The animal collapsed in a dead heap underneath her, knocking her to the ground. She picked herself up and stood slowly, her eyes blazing. Apparently she had her answer.

There was a roar like Jack had never heard as the men of the village surged up the valley walls, en masse, holding pitchforks and axes and bellowing war cries. The women and children ran in the opposite direction and hid.

"Attack!" Yazzi screeched.

And the soldiers, save Jack, came to life. He was utterly at a loss. The other members of the troop ran down the valley walls towards the approaching villagers, yelling and slicing with their swords, attempting to hack everyone to pieces. He ran down with them, his eyes darting frantically, his breathing labored. This attack had to stop. But he couldn't openly start killing members of his own platoon – that would be too obvious.

He decided to avoid the battle and try to get the women and children to safety. As the fighting raged on the valley slopes, Jack hurried off. The screams of death got further and further away.

He trotted along, slipping in the powdery snow, and ran into the smoking ruins of the town to search for survivors. He peered around gutted houses and turned up boards until he finally found a family hiding behind what used to be the post office. It was a woman, holding two small children in her arms. The children hid their faces in her dirty blouse and she stared up at him in abject terror.

"Shh," he said. "I will help you escape. Is there somewhere safe you can go?"

The woman looked stunned, but shook it off. "Well, if we can make it beyond that ridge and survive the two days in the bush, there is a road that will take us to Elsinor."

"Then go."

"Soldier, your Empire burned most of our grain. We have nothing. We would never survive the journey."

"There is none left?"

"Well, yes, but it's all the way at the other end of town, in a barn. We'd never make it!"

Jack ignored her protests and searched around her in the ruins. Finally he found something good – six big woven sacks.

"Gather your children, and your neighbors, and everyone else you can find, right here. I will come back."

"Are you insane?" They both cringed at the loud clanging of swords and the swish of arrows. One landed with a dull thud in the snow not three feet from where they were huddled. "You'd never make it, soldier!"

Jack looked her square in the eyes. "I disagree. Gather everyone right here."

And he left. He slowly made his way across the ruined town, keeping one eye on the raging battle. Yazzi Digger was at the front lines, her mouth stained with civilian blood, screaming and slashing with her broadsword. She was busy.

Jack sprinted across the open space of the square and ran into the barn. Before him was a big bin, half full of grain. He jumped into it, filled the six sacks in a hurry, hefted up his now enormous burden, and faced the town square again.

The battle was still going on, although there were considerably fewer moving bodies on both sides. He forced himself not to think about it. His way was clear. The cold air burned in his lungs as he huffed back across the square and met up with a large crowd of women with their children, all hidden behind the schoolhouse – the biggest building still standing.

He passed out the grain sacks, pointed to the ridge beyond the town, and said, "Go."

"Thank you, soldier," the first woman said.

Everybody scattered up over the rise like the hounds of hell were after them. Jack kept an eye on the battle. The women were rushing along silently, holding kids or grain sacks or clothing. He watched with satisfaction as almost all of them disappeared over the rise.

There was just one old woman left, an exhausted thing of about eighty, with six droopy eyes and pale purple skin. She was practically crawling up the bank.

Jack stayed on his guard, scanning the land in front of him. The shout behind him made him jump.

"Where are the women!"

Jack whirled around on the soldier who had appeared out of nowhere. He played dumb. "They must have escaped!" he yelled. "I do not know what happened!"

"Yeah, well, we're whuppin' butt minus you back on that hill, so you better haul it!"

"As you wish," Jack replied, and made to move.

But with a quick glance, he saw that the elderly woman was still inching up the rise, now in plain sight. She didn't seem to give a damn if she was seen or not.

She was quickly spotted.

"Hey!" the soldier yelled. He ran for the old woman. Jack followed with a heavy heart.

The old woman had stopped moving. She was just eyeing the soldier with hatred. He ignored this and marched over to her. Grabbing her roughly, he dragged her back down the slope. She rolled to a stop at his feet.

"Your ass is grass, Wrinkles," he snarled, yanking her to her feet. Then he threw her at Jack. "Hold 'er still!"

Jack caught her. It was rather like trying to catch a big sack of potatoes. He fumbled but finally helped the old woman stand up. She smelled faintly of lilac and dried herbs and was shaking in his grip. Jack steadied his strong arm around her shoulder. The soldier drew his spear.

"Where are the others?" he growled, his eyes glowing with that mad red light.

"Go to hell," the old woman replied, and spat in his face.

Jack almost smiled at this display. Almost.

"Ladies first!" the soldier yelled.

He made to strike, but Jack was too fast. In one smooth motion he lunged forward, grabbed the soldier's spear, and ripped it out of his hand while letting go of the old woman. She backed away.

Jack broke the spear over his knee, and gripped a broken half in each hand. He glared in defiance. The soldier roared in indignation and ran at him. His hands occupied, Jack lashed out with his feet. The side kick hit the charging soldier in the chest with such force that both heard the crunch of breaking ribs. His opponent toppled to the ground on his side, arms flopping up. There was an un-armored spot under his pit. Jack pounced on him, held his arm up and stabbed him there, fiercely and quickly and deep.

The soldier died fast and Jack didn't give the corpse a second glance. He stood up and looked at the old woman, his heaving breath hanging in the frosty air.

"Run. Now."

She did. He watched her disappear over the rise and trotted off to rejoin the battle on the hill, but he was too late to even draw his weapon. Things were calming down. Most of the yelling was over. A small band of men was ready to surrender. It was pointless to fight anymore; so many of their comrades were dead.

Jack just stood still in the snow and looked at the mess that had been Orzwitha. The snowy ground beneath him was a ghastly rainbow of pink and red, green, brown, and a little yellow. The dead were strewn everywhere. Jack dropped to his knees and put his head down. He hadn't been witness to something like this in a long time. Time slowed to a crawl. All the noises he heard grew low and quiet as body after body was picked up and dragged away by soldiers. Fortunately, no one asked him to help.

He looked around, hearing his heart thud heavily in his chest. A gray film fell over his eyes. A soldier was striking a fallen Orzwithian with his spear. The spear flew down through invisible molasses and planted itself deep in the still living body. The splattering sound of metal against heart rolled through Jack like thunder. The death groan was a rumble. Jack had to shake his head to clear it. This time the world was merciful. It snapped back into rhythm.

The soldiers were dragging bodies (armored and civilian alike) into a huge pile by the frozen lake. The process was quiet and sickeningly organized. Yazzi wandered by nursing a wound on her arm, and checked the progress.

"Such a stupid people," she said. "Never knew when to just give up."

Her words barely registered. Jack was too busy staring at the pile in shock. The man who had woken him that morning was being carried over. He was relatively uninjured and might have even been alive, had his head still been on his shoulders. Instead it rested neatly on his belly. He was set down gently on a small mound of bodies, but not solidly. His head rolled off his body, bounced through the snow like a poorly played baseball and came to rest two feet away, his bloodied nose acting as a brake. Jack swallowed a sudden painful lump in this throat and dragged his eyes from the sight. But they landed on nothing better.

One red-eyed trooper paraded by, dragging a corpse by its legs. It was the leader of the resistance of Orzwitha, bumping along the ground with three of his six eyes open, his limp arms flopping about, his purple head bobbing gently from side to side. Someone's spear was sticking out of his chest like a flagpole.

It was impossible to tell how long this went on. But the pile grew bigger until it seemed to Jack an _oka no kisei_ – a mound of death. The air suddenly stank. A few soldiers were shuffling along with big cans, pouring a foul-smelling, oily substance on the corpses.

Someone lit a match.

Jack turned away.

The remainder of Troop 50 made their way back to the cart, leading their prisoners ahead of them. Slowly, the few uninjured and living soldiers clambered on. Jack was again the last to find his seat. The soldiers were battle-worn and tired and no one spoke to him. He was glad for this. He sat down with a grunt and put his face in his hands.

For the entire ride home, he did not look up. He just buried himself as deeply into his mind as he could and thought. He thought about the crazy purple man who had stood up for his people. He thought about the soldier who had been kind to him. He thought about the man he killed who would not be buried or even burned, but left to rot.

Tradition was everything to Jack in this strange world, but praying for one man was inefficient. He would wait until he was alone and pray for the souls of all the dead at once.

* * *

TBC 


	10. Nine: Aint from Here

Some notes: 1) Two warnings: some gore and one bad word. 2) Many thanks to everyone who's weighing in.

* * *

9. _Ain't From Here_

A few days passed in relative boredom. The remaining soldiers of Troop 50 spent their time lazing about the fortress playing cards and drinking. And if they weren't drinking, they were sprawled on the ground sleeping it off. Often they were so still it was hard to tell their gray uniforms from the stone floors. Jack managed not to step on anybody and deftly escaped their curious pastime of "hanging out."

Life, for the moment, had structure and rhythm. There was an order to the day at Tarrenko. Up at dawn, work, break for breakfast, work, break for lunch, more work, break for dinner, work, and bed. Since Jack had no soldierly duties to attend to, he spent most of his time learning the layout of the fortress and covertly assisting the staff. Buckets of water mysteriously appeared in the laundry room without anyone going to the well. Maids found rolls of bread in their apron pockets. The healers woke up one morning to find a pile of blankets in the middle of their cage.

Dawn broke one cold morning to find Jack was sitting on the steps of the main hall, scanning the snowy front yard. Behind him a few soldiers were playing a noisy game of blackjack in front of the fire. He ignored them. The touch on his shoulder startled him and he whirled around to see Ari.

"Morning, Kip."

"Good morning."

"I have a favor to ask."

"Yes."

Ari smiled. "You don't even know what it is yet!"

"And I do not care," Jack replied, smiling too. "What is it you need?"

"I need you to go to Tarrenko village and buy something from the artisans. General Digger's been screaming for a new necklace. I'd go myself, but there's so much washing. Of course, if Sniggla would do her share instead of sending me on errands…" She huffed in indignation. "That melon ball thought it would be so amazingly funny to send me to get something for that – that creature. I tell you, that maid is the lousiest lump of –"

"Ari."

"Sorry." She composed herself, smoothing back some fur. "Anyway. Please?"

"Of course. Point and I will go." Jack stood.

She nodded and fished in her pocket until she pulled out two gold coins. "Here. Give this to the guards to pay for it. You'll want to go to Barrack 419. And while you're there…" Her voice dropped to a whisper and handed him a small bag of food. "Go find my little Gui-Gao and give her this. Tell her Ari needs some of her best work on the necklace and all the girls send their love. Please?"

Jack was bewildered. He stuffed the bag of food down the front of his armor. "I do not understand," he said quietly. "What is 'Gui-Gao?'"

"Gui-Gao means 'broken throat' in Felinian." She opened her mouth to say something else, but a loud bell went off. "Ah dammit, there's the next load! Jaaaa – Kip, I have to go! Go out the main gate and take the road to the left! Hurry, now!" She picked up her apron and darted up a few steps into the hall.

"Wait! What does Gui-Gao do?"

Ari pivoted, running backward for a moment, and yelled, "She's a bead-worker! Go!" She spun around again and disappeared inside.

Jack scratched his head at this display. But a promise was a promise, and going to a village had to be more interesting than hanging around the fortress and listening in on drunken conversations. He trudged off through the snow and reached the main gate. Crossed spears appeared suddenly in front of him. Xio and Zip were standing guard duty.

"Where are you going?" Zip asked.

"To the village on an errand," Jack replied, trying to look as if this were routine.

"What sort of errand?" Zip pressed.

"I'm being sent to pick up a necklace for General Digger."

Xio snorted. "Oh, is that all. She gets a new one every week, I swear! You know, I never knew a woman soldier who was such a girly girl. Come on through."

Jack blinked at him, unsure of how to respond. He was saved from saying anything by Zip, who unbolted the huge door and pried it open a crack. Jack touched the front of his helmet in goodbye, squeezed through the gap, and stood outside the gate for a moment. The door thwacked shut behind him. Woods and snow and a road met the samurai's eyes and the scent of pine and clean, cold air were so overwhelming that he had to stand still for a moment and simply inhale.

* * *

The road was short. He reached Tarrenko and was rather disappointed; it was more a soldierly compound than a real village. Ipshens were on patrol around every corner. The few buildings were made of crumbling cement and mud brick. The snow on the ground was dirty, dotted with the tracks of hundreds of horses and people.

But he couldn't stop to watch the snow fall or feel the wind on his face. His trip had to look routine. The barrack up ahead and to the right read 419. It was made completely of mud brick and looked ridiculously flimsy, like it had been built with inexperienced hands. Jack hastened towards it. Again he was stopped at the entrance. Again he explained his business. Again he was let through.

The barrack was simply a warm, overcrowded, enormous room. Four long tables ran from end to end and each table was full on both sides with creatures of all kinds and colors, chained in their places and working at different craft projects. Hands, claws, and fins were flying at a furious rate. Some were sewing. Some were making things out of clay. And everybody was talking. Shackles were clanking. The noise was deafening. This was the artisans' area.

Jack looked around and spied a likely spot to find Gui-Gao. He maneuvered around the workers until he reached the back corner of the last table, where several bead-workers were hunched over their projects, stringing delicate beads onto thread with shaking hands. He put a hand on the shoulder of a worker. The worker put down her web of beads and looked up at him. It was a blue-furred monkey creature, a fairly old one with bushy white eyebrows.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you. I am looking for Gui-Gao."

The monkey creature smiled and gently elbowed the worker to her left, who Jack hadn't even noticed. The worker put down the necklace she was making, smoothing it on the table with her long bony fingers. She looked up at Jack through large sad eyes. Her straw-colored hair was matted. Her left eyelid and shoulder drooped unnaturally.

"Ah?" she said. The left side of her face twitched once.

Jack stared. Of course this person didn't recognize him with the beard, but he recognized her immediately. It was Kiki, the bent, broken artisan from Sankra's village. He absently felt his side, where the hidden pocket was on his old _gi_. The exquisite coin purse she'd made him hadn't survived his many journeys since leaving the village, but the memory burned bright in his mind. Then he realized the bead-worker was expecting a reply.

"Hello," he said. Then he turned to the blue monkey. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

The monkey creature nodded and scooted down on her bench as far as her chains would allow, giving Jack some room. He sat down and whispered in Kiki's ear, "Ari says she needs a necklace for the General – your best work."

Kiki nodded with enormous effort, moving her head, neck and shoulders as one unit.

He shot a furtive glance at the nearest guard, who was preoccupied with his dirty fingernails. Gingerly, he took the small bag of food from under his breastplate and pressed it into the worker's lap. He leaned in again. "And the girls send their love."

The bead worker gave him a joyful if lopsided grin and clumsily reached for the middle of the table. From a pile of beaded things she pulled out a dazzling necklace of black and green beads, laced in a complicated web, and put it in his hand. "Ohhh uh Yehraaaah," she breathed.

"For the General," the monkey to his right translated quietly.

Kiki motioned him closer. He had only seen her take one thing from the pile, but she pressed something else into his hand and whispered, "Ohhh Ayeeee. Ah?" in his ear.

For Ari. Of course.

He nodded. Quickly stuffing the secret gift into his shirt, he took the first one and went for the exit. The soldier there sternly eyed the necklace and held up two fingers. Jack handed him the two gold pieces. The soldier nodded and let him through.

Gently untangling the necklace, Jack walked off through the snow, not really watching where he was going. He bumped into something soft.

"Oh, excuse me," he said and looked up.

Yazzi Digger grinned at him, bundled up in a red jacket with a matching muff. He blinked back at her. A chill rushed down his back. "General," he acknowledged with a slight bow.

"Ipshen. Have you got my necklace?"

"Uh, yes. I do. Here." He handed her the delicate beadwork piece, marveling at it even as he gave it to her. The colors were brilliant, the design fetching. He wondered how long it had taken "Gui-Gao" to make.

Yazzi held it on the end of one claw and sniffed, bored. "Not bad," she said. "But not brilliant. Usually I have my personal jeweler set something for me, but he's gone north, so there you are. Go back in there and get another piece that I might like better."

Jack was annoyed. Undercover or not, he didn't appreciate being treated as anyone's personal servant. He did his best to look respectful. "I apologize, General, but I already spent the two gold pieces allotted, and I have nothing of my own. I cannot get you another one."

Digger snorted. "Imbecile!" She knocked Jack out of the way and marched in. The guards didn't stop her. Jack followed her. He was stopped at the doorway. So he stood and watched … and was immediately sorry.

Yazzi pushed her way across the room, knocking heads and limbs this way and that, much to the annoyance of their owners. She marched over to the cluster of bead-workers and began screaming at Kiki.

"You call this work! _I_ could do this better, you worm! You haggard piece of filth! It's a miracle the empire let you live, and this is how you repay it!"

The unfortunate bead-worker was twitching in fear. Her breath was hitching in her throat – she couldn't speak if she had a tongue that worked. Her blue monkey friend, who looked like she'd seen this one too many times before, stood up and exploded at Yazzi.

"Then do it yourself! If you dislike my friend's work, get out of here and never bother us again!"

The entire room went silent. Yazzi snarled at the monkey, who remained utterly motionless, glaring the General.

"Raaaah!"

The movement was so fast that only Jack caught it. But to everyone else it seemed that Yazzi's thick, clawed hand had simply appeared in the blue monkey's chest, embedded up to the knuckle. With a disgusted snort, Digger ripped her bloody hand out of the artisan. The light in the blue monkey's eyes went out. She gurgled and collapsed. The chains went taut and there she hung, arms stretched and anchored to the table by her wrist irons, ass on the bench, her head snapped back, purple blood dribbling out of her chest and pouring onto the dirty floor. Everyone, particularly the person next to her, stared in horror.

Kiki found her voice. She started to scream.

The rest of the artisans began to scream too, and Digger was hard-pressed to be heard over the noise. "Take this one to the graveyard!" she yelled at a nearby soldier, pointing to the dead monkey. Then she pointed at Kiki. "And take _this _one to the Wall!"

The commotion hit another decibel. The bead-worker was still wailing for her friend, but at the mention of the Wall she turned a terrified roar in Yazzi's direction. Incoherent strings of vowels, spit, and sobs had no effect. The General stood by, hands on hips, and watched the soldiers cut her chains. She was hauled to her feet and nearly dragged out the back door of the barrack, since her limping legs didn't work very well. Yazzi watched this, bored, and waited until the soldiers had dragged their prisoner from the room. Then she calmly reached down into the pile of beadwork and pulled out another necklace.

Jack stopped thinking clearly right about then.

Taking care to avoid any doors or windows, he scuttled around the side of the building. From around the corner he could see the soldiers dragging her away. They marched left, dragging the shrieking woman between them, and then turned right. Jack checked behind him and saw Yazzi heading for the village gate. He looked in front. The coast was clear. His armor clanked as he darted after them.

"Wait!" he yelled, rounding a corner.

The soldiers stopped. Their prisoner stopped snuffling for a moment and turned her shaggy head.

"What?" the left guard asked.

Jack caught up to them. "Sorry. I am new here. I was ordered to go with you."

"Why?" the right guard grunted.

Jack shrugged. The guards looked at each other. It seemed as good an answer as any. After all, leaders weren't keen on explaining their orders to any grunt.

"All right Ipshen, come on. There ain't much to see, though. It's only the Wall. Y'ever been?"

Jack shook his head. He wasn't about to ask what it was, either.

"Final punishment," one of the soldiers said as he dragged Kiki along. He was talking just to talk. "Last stop for misbehavin' females."

Kiki squeaked. Jack had nothing to say. He nodded and walked silently behind them, following their miserable parade through narrow, quiet streets until they reached the edge of the settlement. He stared up at a ten-foot-tall cement construction as they walked by. It was thin, like someone had jammed a giant gray cracker into the snow. An indistinct rattling was coming from the other side, and a rumbling moan filled his ears.

The party came around. The wind began to whip furiously. As though some unseen hand had adjusted a radio, the muffled moaning snapped into full-fledged screaming.

"Well soldier, here it is," said the left guard. "The Wall."

It was fortunate that Jack was at the end of the procession. Had anyone seen the look on his face, the entire ruse would have been over.

Chained to the flat cement wall by their wrists and ankles were perhaps twelve female creatures, some alien, some reasonably human. One was eerily still and limp in her chains. The rest were alive, but barely. They looked sick, with green blisters on their faces and bellies. Their clothes were torn and tattered. They were starving, beaten, bloodied, wind-whipped and freezing. Below each was a cold pool of slop.

"Hey! Soldier!"

One of the guards was talking to him. "What?" Jack asked.

"Here." A set of keys were tossed into his hand. "Unchain the dead one and kick it loose. We have to put up the fresh one."

"The fresh one?" Jack asked vaguely. He had the distinct impression that his voice was coming out of the air beside him, not from his mouth.

"Do it."

Jack moved towards the Wall in a fog, holding the key. He had to walk by a few prisoners, who moaned at him. "H-Help!" yelled a pink spider-woman as he passed. Only four of her eight legs were chained, and she reached for him weakly with her free limbs. "-elp!" she cried again. Eight tears streaked down her frozen face. "S-Soldier, please! Is – Is th-there any m-mercy left in your heart? Or has the Empress t-taken all of _you_, t-too!"

Jack couldn't answer her. Instead he paused next to her, where the dead one hung. The stench, even in the numbing winter air, was foul. He undid her cuffs and let her fall face-down into the snow. The corpse was thin and frostbitten. He stared down at it, thankful he'd never seen its face, while the other two soldiers pinned up the struggling bead-maker.

"Heeyaaaah!" she shrieked, lashing out clumsily with her legs. It was no use.

Jack pretended to pay the Wall no mind.

"Death by exposure?" he asked calmly.

"Sometimes," the right guard said, coming over. "Sometimes it's starvation, since no one bothers with food for 'em. But usually it's the 'green' disease because, well, all boys want is some action. And no matter what the season, they know right where to find it. See? Case in point."

The guard was motioning at a drunken soldier who'd stumbled out from the other side of the Wall. Without preamble, he unclasped the pants on his armor and walked up to the nearest body. Jack turned away, as did the other soldiers. None of the three men looked at each other. It was good for Jack that the other two didn't see him, because he was gritting his teeth in anger. He couldn't tune out the groaning of the soldier and the screaming of the woman.

It was too much. He had to act. Pretending to scratch the back of his neck, he grabbed the hilt of his sword.

"Eeeeeeeooooooo!" Kiki shrieked again, having watched the proceedings.

"Can it, little sister!" the left guard yelled. "If heaven is merciful, you'll be dead before evening!"

"Do not worry about her," Jack growled, his low mellow voice reverberating in the cold air. "You will be dead _long _before that!"

He drew his sword with a battle cry and ran at the surprised soldiers like a bullet, cutting both down in short order. The drunk staggered away from the Wall and drew his own sword, slurring and cursing and swiping stupidly at the samurai. Jack killed him with one stroke.

He paused to catch his breath. Three men were dead on the ground. His sword was hanging loosely in his right hand, dripping blood. Those on the Wall, even those who could barely lift their heads, were staring at him. The spider-woman smiled weakly. Kiki, eyeing the huffing man with the bright sword, gasped. Her eyes went wide. She'd seen a man who moved like that with a weapon only once in her life. Was it …?

Jack approached the Wall. "How long have you been chained here?" he asked the spider-woman. "What is your name?"

"J-Jissa," she whispered through badly chapped lips. "I've b-been here t-two days."

"Hold still. I will cut you loose."

She closed her eyes, bit her lip and heard the swish, and suddenly she was free. She hobbled onto the ground and skittered about lamely. The others on the Wall were quiet now, watching this strange man and wondering if they were hallucinating. Working quickly, he sliced through all the chains until every last prisoner was off. He solemnly sheathed his sword and for a moment felt like he had done something.

But then he got a good look at those he'd freed. Only Kiki, who was hobbling over to him with wide eyes and babbling incoherently, looked like she had a fighting chance. The others were done for. Most of them were slumped against the Wall, too weak to stand. An icy wind was bearing down on them all. Even the spider-woman was crouched down, coughing. Exhaustion, exposure, starvation, illness … something would get them, and quickly.

"You are free. What else can I do?" he asked.

For a moment, nobody answered, but he felt a pressure on the leg of his armor. Jissa was down in the snow, looking up at him sadly.

"You can do one thing, soldier," she said. "You can let us die."

Jack looked at her for a second. She held his gaze and he realized she was sincere. He hung his head bitterly. He didn't want to honor her request. It was … wrong. Hopeless.

He knelt in the snow next to her. "I cannot."

"You have to. A-Anyone with green boils on their bellies is d-dead anyway. It's the s-sickness that we get when we're over-overused by the s-soldiers. See?"

Jack looked at Jissa and her companions. It seemed that Kiki was the only one who didn't have the boils. He scratched his head. Another battle won, yet lost. It was a painful sensation in a long series of them. After a moment, he got up the courage to look at her one more time.

"May I take you someplace warm?"

Jissa's stoic façade crumbled like a straw house and she began to weep. Jack took that as a yes.

He picked up the spider-woman, carried her away from the Wall and brought her into a nearby building. It was an unused barrack, nothing more than a large empty shack with a dirt floor. Jack gingerly placed Jissa in the nearest corner and walked outside only to bump into Kiki, who was burdened with a large, green, coughing prisoner. She just nodded at Jack and hobbled in while he went out. Before long all of the dying were inside, packed together like sardines for body heat. Jack could find nothing to cover them, but they all seemed grateful to just be in from the cold. Kiki came back and saw all the women curled together on the floor. She knelt next to a purple creature on the end and smoothed some pink hair off her cold face.

Jack closed his eyes briefly and clapped his hands together once in prayer.

"Last rites?" Jissa wheezed.

He opened his eyes and nodded.

"Thanks."

Jack could not bring himself to say she was welcome. "Your resistance against the Empire was not in vain."

A glance. A false, cocky snort. "Whatever you say, dear."

"Just … please, rest now."

And Jissa smiled at him. "Okay."

Jack watched her. Most of her friends were already asleep, their lips blue. Their ordeal would soon come to an end. Kiki, shaking, hobbled over to Jack. Jissa closed all eight of her eyes. A cold wind blew in through the door, gently ruffling straggly hair on limp, cold heads and whipping through raggedy clothes that clung to used-up bodies. Jack threw an arm around Kiki and both of them watched as the spider-woman's rattling breath slowed and slowed. At last it grew so faint that neither of them could hear it.

The two living let their eyes roam down the row, stopping at every face. All was still.

Jack knelt and felt Jissa's neck for a pulse. There was nothing. He stood up with a quiet, closed expression, but Kiki knew what had happened. She tried to hide her face in Jack's armor and shook even harder.

"Do not cry," he whispered. "There is nothing either of us can do."

She untucked her head and stared at him, her face damp. "Eh onna, ahn ey? Eh o-onn!" she said with a sob, and wiped the back of her hand under her nose.

A deep, piercing ring startled both of them. It was a bell. Jack was jolted back to reality, back to his mission. With a soul-saving change of focus technique he'd learned from vicious experience, he ignored the sight in front of him, picked up Kiki piggyback-style, and hightailed it for the entrance of the village, keeping an eye out for soldiers. Luck was on their side for the moment. They met only empty streets and escaped.

* * *

The lunch bell had rung two minutes ago. Everyone else was in line for their Borko bean soup, but two soldiers had decided to forego food for the moment. They were walking towards the Wall, talking in loud voices to let the girls know they were coming.

"So who do you think would win, 24 or 58?"

"My money's on 24."

"Aw, you and 24! S'matter, you a sucker for aliens, or something? Guy's lost eight times in a row!"

"Clam up."

"_You _clam up!"

They reached the "right" side of the Wall and their argument came to a screeching halt.

"Holy shit," the first soldier said.

They noted the empty Wall and surveyed the carnage. Turned over bodies. It was no one they knew. Then they took a look at the kills.

"The weapon was a sword," the first soldier remarked. "A good one."

"And not the kind we have," the second agreed. "Whoever killed these guys … he ain't from here."

* * *

TBC 


	11. Ten: Office Space

10. _Office Space_

It was past nine. Jack hadn't reported to the dormitory, mostly because he didn't want to hear one more whispered word about "the empty Wall" or "those three dead guys" or about how "it could have been any one of us." Everyone was talking about it. Thankfully no one seemed to suspect he was the culprit – not even Yazzi. She hardly gave him a glance that night in the mess hall and he considered himself lucky. He had grown to actively hate her attention.

For now he was hiding out in the maids' common room, sitting cross-legged before the small fire and absently rubbing his stomach. That Borko bean soup was starting to catch up with him. He was beginning to hate those beans almost as much as he hated his commander. They tasted like lye soap and had the texture of old leather, no matter how much they were mashed up or seasoned. But they could grow in any kind of soil, in any kind of weather, without any care at all, so that's what the soldiers were fed. Jack burped.

Ari sat behind him, slumped against the wall. She was dozing quietly with a quilt around her shoulders. Her day wouldn't end until eleven. She was only on a sleep break because six soldiers had come through the infirmary today with some sort of cough. Dirty tracks of salt ran down her furry face and even in sleep she had both hands folded protectively over her lap. The sight made Jack bristle, but he couldn't afford to dwell on it too much. It would just make him angry and surely cause him to do something he would regret.

So he sat and pondered other things. First of all, he had to figure out how long it would take to stop this madness. The empire was growing and festering like one of those green boils on the women at the Wall, and it had to be happening with Aku's consent. But the power-hungry demon would never let anyone make an empire on his planet without some kind of kick-back. So what was the prize? Precious stones? Resources? Simple control?

Jack sighed, giving his mind a chance to escape its tether and wander. He saw the three dead men he'd left in the snow; the pools of blood, the shadowy bodies. The images of their still forms were burned into his inner eye, like the soldier he'd killed at Orzwitha. He wasn't sorry he'd killed any of them. But as it stood, he had no successes to balance out the rising death toll and the risk he was running.

All the Orzwithian women had somehow disappeared off the face of the earth. Ari had her ear to the ground, but she'd heard nothing of a successful escape. And then there was the disaster today at Tarrenko Village, which was now the proud owner of three dead soldiers (one killed with his pants around his ankles) and eleven dead women. His rescue had come to nothing.

Kiki hobbled into the room and sat down clumsily on a rug.

Well, almost nothing. He'd at least managed to help one person. Ari was more than happy to hide her "Gui-Gao" and Unt-Ork was more than happy to help Ari, so the beadworker was safe. She seemed to know it. When Jack had gotten her off his back and dropped her off in the maids' quarters a few hours ago, she was shell-shocked, her eyes huge and empty. But now she was working on another project, humming tunelessly and rocking back and forth while her lithe hands whipped around through space, making something out of the seemingly eternal supply of beads and string and bone needles she had stuffed in her pockets. She seemed so graceful when she wasn't standing or talking. Jack wondered what had happened to her.

He stole a glance at Ari. Kiki's little gift to her, the one he'd hidden in his shirt, had made it through the chaos at the Wall and the escape. A necklace of sparkling white beads twinkled merrily on the cat-woman's neck like a fallen star. It was dazzling in the firelight.

Jack had to force himself back to the matter at hand. How long would this mess take to clean up?

Well, that depended on many factors. The first was manpower. Jack had taken on hordes by himself, but an empire of millions was a far cry from a field of metallic robots. There was no way he could possibly do this alone. He would have to rally prisoners, train them in secret, and raise an army. This would have to be a calculated assault, not some rag-tag rebellion. That would only get people killed.

But most of the oppressed were women, uneducated in the ways of the sword. How on earth could they get their hands on weapons? How could they cover it up? How many could they get to fight with them? How soon? So many questions. So few answers.

Suddenly the door burst open. Jack whirled around. Ari woke with a start. Kiki gasped and skittered for the darkest corner of the room. A dark shape stepped forward until it was bathed in light, revealing … Unt-Ork. Everyone relaxed.

"General Digger wants you in her office," Unt-Ork said to Jack. "She told me you were to see her or …"

The little alien didn't have to go on. Jack saw the fear in her eyes. He stood up and motioned for her to take his place in front of the fire. She gladly accepted, plopping down on the floor. Jack slowly made his way to the door. Ari spoke up just as he left.

"Go," she groused, her voice rough with sleep. "Just try to keep your pants on as long as possible. If you're lucky, she'll be too drunk to try anything."

Jack nodded and slipped out.

* * *

The walk was long. Jack listened to the uncomfortable echo of his boots on the stone floor and missed his _geta_. He threaded his way through the fortress until he reached that same hallway with all those impressive wooden doors. As he got closer and closer to the general's office, his left hand began to quake. He had to still it with his right. Nervousness would never do – especially not in the face of Yazzi Digger.

But he couldn't help it. He was a samurai, not a ninja. Intrigue was hardly his forte. And if Digger discovered his plans, many would be accused and pay dearly for a rebellion that hadn't even begun. Standing before the general's door, he stilled his face until it was as placid as a calm lake and knocked.

"Enter!"

He did. The _tatami_ were spread out as before. General Digger was lounging on a pile of pillows near her desk and playing with the necklace she'd selected at the barrack. She looked like a cat playing with a ball of string.

Jack stood at the door and didn't move, mindful of Ari's warning.

"Come here, Renakalli."

Jack moved toward her slowly until he stood at a respectable, safe distance. Yazzi waited until he stopped, then heaved herself off the pillows and stood. She looked at Jack for a long moment.

"You're probably wondering why I've brought you here."

Jack was silent.

Yazzi gave him a crocodile smile. "Of course you are. You seem to be a very thoughtful man, Renakalli. I've gotten reports that the servants like you. You took the little gray one under your wing, and she is thriving. Now I'll admit that's a strange way to treat servants –"

"Slaves," Jack interrupted. "Servants are paid."

There was an icy pause. Jack mentally kicked himself for the outburst but maintained his composure.

"Whatever," Yazzi continued. "You seem to have … what is it? _Rapport_. That's the word. You have a good _rapport_ with them. And the other soldiers tell me you're strange, because you're quiet and polite and you never drink."

Jack had no idea where this was heading. He kept his mouth shut. Yazzi was eyeing him.

"Man of few words, are you?"

Silence.

"Hm. Well, let's get down to business. I think you're the perfect man for the job."

Jack was baffled. It must have shown, because Yazzi felt compelled to explain.

"Our last man from the convoy was killed today at the Wall, in a most grievous manner that will have to be investigated. But in the meantime, I am recommending that instead of remaining an Ipshen, you will take his place. You will become one of the six ambassadors from Tarrenko to her majesty's capital at Gunzai. As the lowest ranking of the six, your first assignment will be a fact-finding mission: to visit all six of the fortresses and make reports of the state of the servants and soldiers there, so that you can present the information to her majesty. For example, are the soldiers and servants being treated properly, etc."

Jack scratched at his beard. "What is proper treatment?"

Yazzi sighed. "You know, if the women are subdued and reasonable, the men are firmly in hand, like that."

"Subdued? In hand?" Jack was beginning to get angry, but Yazzi saw only confusion.

"Yes," she drawled, like she was talking to an idiot. "If the women obey their orders without being lashed, they are subdued. If the men have the proper 'glow' about them when they fight, they are in hand."

But when she said "glow" she made a strange gesture around her face, and Jack suddenly understood. She was talking about that crazy red light he'd seen in the men's eyes at Orzwitha.

"Of course you can't see the glow, since you're just another soldier and her majesty has taken your mind from you. But just say it's there and you'll have no problems."

So the women were being beaten and the men were being brainwashed. Well, this was a fine mess.

Jack stared her down, fighting to quell his anger. "As you wish. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. I have your permit to travel, the authorization for a carriage, and the authorization to take two guards and two servants with you. It's in my desk. Come over here and get it."

He could hardly believe it, and did his best to hide his pleasure. Papers? Access? He could reach the entire Empire this way! What luck!

But then he took a long look at Yazzi. She was staring at him like he was a snack, the lamplight flickering in her wide yellow eyes. He hated those eyes. A half a second ticked by as he calculated distances and risk.

Yazzi was standing right next to her desk. He was six paces away.

Yes.

He approached like a wary junkyard dog and stood across the desk from Yazzi. She reached into the desk and handed him the papers. He took them cautiously … and the trap was sprung.

She pounced. The papers went flying. Jack hit the floor on his back was immediately pinned. He had fur in his eyes and a low, sultry growl in his ear.

"I live for the hunt, Renakalli. You know that."

Jack struggled, but it was no use. Yazzi was just too big (she was all over him), and she had gravity working for her anyway.

"But you know what of prey I like best? The kind that plays hard to get."

And she kissed him full on the lips. Jack gagged. Her breath smelled like old meat and her fangs kept clicking against his teeth. Finally he pulled away with a yell, twisting his head to the side. Yazzi opened her mouth in shock and one of her canines ripped against Jack's cheek. The wound started bleeding.

Jack didn't care. Taking advantage of Yazzi's surprise, he threw her off like a sack of cotton. She careened into a pile of nearby pillows. Quick as a whip, Jack picked up the scattered papers and made for the door. He was almost through it when he heard her voice behind him.

"That's right, run! I'll have you, Renakalli! I'll have you yet!"

He slammed the door and raced off through the corridors, blood trickling from his beard to his shirt.

* * *

Jack didn't break stride until he reached the maids' quarters. Clammy hands met cold walls as he stopped himself and heaved for breath. The common room door opened. Unt-Ork peeked out and grinned happily.

"Ari! He's okay!" she yelled into the room, then grabbed Jack and dragged him inside.

Jack closed the door behind him. Ari wasted no time in grilling him. Jack tripped all over himself trying to tell his story, but he finally got out Yazzi's pronouncement, including the part about the two servants. Unt-Ork, Ari, and Kiki all stared at him with their mouths hanging open.

"That's … that's incredible," Ari said, finding her voice. "So you can get out of this hellhole. Who will you take with you?" Her second question was soft, almost pleading.

"You, of course," Jack replied, "And Unt-Ork."

"What about Gui-Gao?" the alien asked.

Everyone looked at Kiki, who straightened up as much as her body would allow.

"Ah … kuh ta ka … aww … mah sehhh," she said, struggling and spitting with every sound. "Gah."

Ari smiled at Kiki. "I know you can," she said. "All right, then. We'll pack and leave with Jack in the morning."

Ignoring the call to be back at work, the two of them left for their room. Jack stared at the fire. Kiki stared at Jack.

"Ah … mihh oo."

Jack turned to her. "I will be back. And this will be over soon. I swear it."

Kiki gave him a lopsided half smile, clumsily patted his shoulder, and limped out of the room. Jack was left in front of the fire, alone with his thoughts again.

* * *

TBC 


	12. Eleven: Errol

I am back, after the world's longest unannounced hiatus. I left the story dangling, just picked it up again, and I will shortly bring it to a close. If anyone is reading this, please accept my deepest apologies for leaving you hanging for over a year.

The quest continues! Enjoy.

* * *

11. _Errol_

The standard-issue imperial carriage rolled along – quite literally. The sitting compartment looked like an enormous grey marble with windows, weighted at the bottom by the occupants. It kept still while a huge, clear gyroscopic sphere rotated around it, jerking its cargo to whatever button was pushed on the control console. This particular ECV (Empire-Commissioned Vehicle) was battered and dented from months of abuse to rather cheap metal. Besides its designation of 0410, it sported some colorful graffiti.

Jack didn't give a damn what condition the thing was in. He was free from Tarrenko and the eyes of Yazzi Digger, at least for a little while, and that was all that mattered. And now he was on his way with Ari and Unt-Ork traveling north to the base at Jilken. It was their first stop on his "tour."

The ECV rumbled quietly through snow-covered valleys and across icy rivers. Unt-Ork was very excited to get out of Tarrenko. She stared out the window and watched the world race by. Ari and Jack were bent over a plank of wood between them, scratching on it with charcoal and talking. A plan was in motion, and they had to have it solidified quickly. Jilken was less than a day away.

The two guards Jack had been asked to take with him had been disposed of last night. Perhaps one day someone would find their decaying, trussed-up, broken bodies in the dry river bed a hundred feet below the Acra Bridge. Perhaps not. Either way, the problem of possible spies had been solved. Killing them had left a bad taste in Jack's mouth, but Ari had insisted it was the only way to plan in privacy and he was inclined to agree. So now it was just the three of them, huddled in the carriage and bouncing along.

First they talked. Unt-Ork begged Jack for a story, so he told her about his encounters with the village of O-mashen-gril-yah-weh-dega, about the ogre, and the healer woman Sankra, who had been captured by the Empire and was down in the basement with the others at Tarrenko, blind and frustrated.

"Seven?" Ari whispered. "Your Sankra is number seven?"

Jack nodded.

Midnight came and went. Unt-Ork was asleep with her head knocked against the window. Ari and Jack were both leaning back in their seats, stalemated. Stories and conversation had turned to arguing. They'd spent the past few hours discussing how to start a rebellion without getting all the rebels killed.

Ari suggested they breed revolt in the ranks of the women, who were not being brainwashed, and see if they could take the fortress. Jack thought it would be better to somehow take control of the soldiers, since they were the ones with the weapons and the training. Both ideas were equally risky, since the majority of the women didn't know how to fight and Jack had hardly any idea of how to make the soldiers sympathetic to his cause. Besides, they had to assume there were spies everywhere.

Dawn broke over a misty marshland. Jilken Fortress loomed in the distance, grey and tall. Unt-Ork sat bolt upright in her seat.

"I have an idea!" she said.

* * *

General Portkippis, who looked like an unfortunate cross between a hippopotamus and an armadillo, lounged behind his desk and took another noisy slurp of wine before digging into his chicken drumstick again. He tore off a piece of meat and chomped on it. Little flecks of chicken fat flew and landed on his big round belly. He was making a mess. The skinny servant dusting a bookshelf in the corner had stopped work a few moments ago. She was staring at this spectacle.

The General saw her. "What are you doing, you piece of garbage!" he bellowed, and flung the chicken bone in her direction. "I want this place spotless! The envoy is arriving within the hour! MOVE IT!"

The servant bowed her head, clenched her bony fists in anger and kept dusting. There were worse fates than hers and she knew it. But to go from being the respected Ashi of her village to someone's servant … it was hard to bear.

* * *

"What's your idea?" Ari asked.

Unt-Ork was shivering a little with excitement. Or perhaps she was cold. Jack blinked at her.

"You have friends, Jack," Unt-Ork said. "How many of the women do you know from O-mashi … you know, the village. How many women do you know?"

"Many," he replied. "Why?"

"I'm sure that there's at least one woman from that village at every base … someone who you've helped, who would certainly want to help you."

Jack had no idea where this was going.

"Instead of forcing everyone to rebel and take just this one fortress, why not work out a signal to take every fortress at _once_? We can appoint leaders at the different bases. You can point out those you recognize to us, and Ari and I will inform those I find to be trustworthy. After all, I can 'see' things."

She tapped her head and gave both Ari and Jack a triumphant smile. They both understood what she meant. Ari reached over and rubbed her friend's bald head affectionately.

"And if Jack makes some 'return trips' to check on the servants, he can teach the women to defend themselves and no one will be the wiser," she said, catching on. "Anybody ever tell you you're a damn smart little critter?"

That was when the ball stopped. It screeched to a halt two feet from the fortress gate and Jack, Ari and Unt-Ork were flung _en masse_ into the control panel. A minute later they stumbled dizzily out of the carriage. Jack dusted himself off.

"Now remember," Ari said. "We're you're servants."

Jack nodded. They were in front of another huge wooden fence, only this one had a pull lever with a word above it in a language Jack had never seen before. He shrugged and pulled the lever. It could have been the signal to release the hounds, or the guards, or the plague. Jack didn't know. Fortunately it turned out to be the bell. An annoyingly high-pitched voice said "Yes?" through a hidden intercom.

"Kip Renakalli, envoy from Tarrenko. I am here to speak with General Portkippis."

The giant gates made a shrieking sound like metal on concrete, and slowly the huge fence began to swing open, as if on a hinge. Jack looked at Ari and Unt-Ork. They nodded at him. He took the lead and all three of them walked across the snowy courtyard to the grand entrance of the fortress.

It was a sight to see. The stone entrance was covered in relieves of warriors on the march, some of whom looked suspiciously like that Spartan army Jack had helped a while back. He steeled himself and pushed open the door. The entrance hall was even grander and more ornate than he had imagined. Every piece of furniture was covered with plush red fabric and built from some strange gleaming wood that he had never seen before. Paintings in all styles adorned the walls. There were white winter blooms sitting on a table in the corner. Ari whistled, clearly impressed. Unt-Ork didn't like the place at all. She clung to her friend's leg. They only had a moment to admire everything when there was a loud clanging and bustling noise coming from the left.

Presently the General appeared, a dinner bib still tucked into his shirt and flanked by ten servants, none of which looked nearly as hearty as he did. He slapped Jack on the shoulder with alarming force, put out his hand for a shake and said …

"Renakalli! How are you? We're all just tremendously excited to have someone coming up from Tarrenko. Nice beard. As you can see, all is well here, but I'll have one of the girls give you a tour and then you can have dinner with me!"

"Uh…" said Jack, glancing quickly at the putrid-looking stains on Portkippis's bib.

Unt-Ork kicked him.

"Yes! Yes, please. That would be … good."

Portkippis raised an eyebrow. "Not much for speaking, are you? Well, fortunately for you I hate noisy people. Give me a quiet man any day, I say!" he said, and let out a loud belly laugh, followed hard upon by a loud burp. He whirled around and pointed at Errol. "You there! Give Mr. Renakalli a tour of the grounds. He's got to see everything's in order and then report back to General Digger! Get a move on!"

A woman moved toward Jack as the general walked off. Just as the general passed her he slapped her casually on the butt, as though she were a particularly slow mule. She flushed in humiliation. Jack balled his hands into fists, but kept them behind his back. Slowly, the woman walked toward him, stood about three feet away, and did something that she was obviously resisting with every fiber of her being. She bowed.

"Follow me, please."

And they all walked off down the hall. As the servant showed them around the base, Jack found his eyes landing briefly on whatever she was pointing out at the time, only to slip back to her lean frame, her graceful walk. There was something oddly familiar about this woman, but he couldn't place it.

She had just finished their tour of the kitchens when Jack asked her what he hoped was an innocent question. He, the servant woman, Unt-Ork and Ari had stepped out into an empty hallway.

"What was your village?"

The woman stared at him. "You would not be able to pronounce it, and if you'll pardon my rudeness, Ipshen, I don't see why one of her majesty's soldiers would care."

"Please," said Jack quietly, "Humor me."

The woman leaned back against the wall, crossed her arms over her dirty apron, and regarded him. "O-mashen-gril-yah-weh-dega. Otherwise known as …"

"The village at the end of the earth," Jack replied, finishing her sentence. And suddenly her hard, striking face and work-worn hands clicked into context. "You were the second Ashi I knew there."

The woman looked at him then, really looked at him, and he knew that she was taking off his beard with her mind's eye. Her eyes grew very wide. "Great Gods. You … you are …"

"Shhh. Yes." Jack swept a furtive glance right and left. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "Where can I meet you after my dinner with the general? We must talk."

"I will take care of it," she hissed back. "Go now. The main hall is down that passageway."

Jack nodded once, and then turned to Ari and Unt-Ork. "Follow her," he said.

Ari squared herself, turned on her heel, and followed the servant away. Unt-Ork made more of a production out of it, saluting and scampering off. Having successfully dismissed his "servants," Jack left for dinner. His stomach had tied itself in a knot. Provided he was able to stomach the food, he just hoped he wouldn't say something stupid and give himself away. He was on his own, now.

* * *

Yazzi Digger was eating dinner at her desk, studying the evidence. This was the most bizarre felony she'd seen since taking command of Tarrenko. And sadly, she couldn't just shunt it to the side and ignore it. It had to be dealt with. Her men were getting nervous, and nervous soldiers were ineffective soldiers. As it stood, three were dead, each killed with one stroke, and all with the same blade. The same blade had sliced through the chains on the Wall, freeing those women sentenced to death, but their bodies had been discovered in a nearby barrack this morning; the stench had given them away.

Someone had cut them down and killed three soldiers, for no reason she could figure out. Nobody had been mutilated. Nothing had been stolen. And after some interviewing, it became apparent that her troop had little information. Two of the dead soldiers were friends and had no enemies. The third soldier wasn't especially well-liked, but as near as she could tell, nobody wanted him on ice. It was most puzzling.

Someone knocked on her door.

"Enter," she growled.

Xio stepped into the room, pale and shaking. He was holding an envelope. She took it from him and shooed him away, and he seemed very pleased to go. All the same, she waited until he slipped out the door before cracking open the imperial seal on the letter and reading it.

"Damn it!" she roared.

Another order. They were to leave in 9 days for the White Mountains – which meant she had less than that to provide some kind of answer for her men.

* * *

Dinner had been a most unpleasant experience. Fortunately, Jack had not needed to say much, but that was the only good part. He left the hall with splatters of food (not his) all over his armor, and only got away by claiming he was tired and asking to go to bed.

Fortunately, Errol was waiting on them and saw through the ruse. She immediately picked up a lantern to light their way and asked him to follow her to the guest chambers. Jack nodded, keeping his face passive and blank, and turned to Portkippis, who was still eating. He dismissed Jack with a casual wave of his hand. Jack bowed in return and set off after Errol. It was nine o'clock.

They walked in silence through stone passages for a few minutes and were just about to turn into the guest hallway when the plan changed. Errol blew out her light, grabbed Jack by the hand, and tore off towards the kitchens. They darted into the huge room and Errol closed the door behind them. She gently placed the lantern box on a counter and turned to Jack.

"Speak, Ogre-Slayer," she said firmly. "Time is short."

"I have come to help you," Jack replied. "All within the grip of this Empire are doomed unless we work as one to stop it. You and all the women around you must rise up and fight. And I can show you how."

Errol, instead of growing excited, seemed to deflate at his words. "You do not understand what you say. The men have been made senseless killing machines. If we were to rise up against Gunzai and the Empress unleashed them, they would murder us all without a second thought. You should see the way many of us cower when they get near the soldiers. We – we are afraid, warrior," she finished sadly.

Jack stood in silence for a bit. "I believe," he said finally, "That before you would conquer the Empress, you must all first conquer your fear. I must leave Jilken in the morning, but I will arrange a return trip in ten days. I ask of you one thing in the meantime: gather all those you know to be trustworthy, who you think might be able to fight, and tell them there is hope. When I return, we will begin. Can I count on you?"

It took Errol a long time to answer him. She had listened to his speech with hooded eyes and tense shoulders. But after hearing his question, she squared herself and stood straight and tall. Her last words were as firm and determined as her first ones.

"In all matters, warrior."

And they exchanged a bow. His first ally made, Jack strode quickly from the kitchen.

* * *

TBC 


	13. Twelve: Xio

If anyone is reading this, I hope you are enjoying it. Please do review if you're so inclined.

* * *

12. _Xio_

Jack left Jilken the following day. While the ECV spun and spun, and Ari fell asleep and Unt-Ork got motion sickness, he focused on a curious map in front of him. It was the Gunzai Empire not quite from space – the Royal Palace in the middle, anchored at five points by its five major bases, radiating out unevenly from the center. Each base was connected to the next by a curving road, but no roads led to the palace. The result was a sort of massive oval with a dot in the middle. Jack had seen this map before, in the barracks. One soldier said it looked like a boob and the others laughed.

But Jack reflected, with much less amusement, that it resembled a giant frightened eye.

Such was the shape of Errol's eyes the night before, when Unt-Ork took a quick "look" at her. The breadbaker had been caught completely off-guard but she got the nod. This was a relief; Jack had no idea what he would have done had Errol turned out to be untrustworthy. He warned her only to recruit fighters who were devoted to the cause, and she vowed to do it. Ari and Unt-Ork looked at each other for a moment, and Unt-Ork dug into her pockets. She pulled out a simple necklace – a length of leather with a glowing glass bauble pendant – and gave it to Errol to wear.

"You're officially leader. Whatever you do, don't let this break … at least not for awhile."

If Errol was confused by that last comment, she didn't let on. "I won't," she said. After one last bow she ran back into the kitchen, leaving Jack, Ari and Unt-Ork to make their way to the gates escorted by others.

With Errol preparing to act at Jilken, Jack traveled to Spum where he met Joinu, a bricklayer of Sankra's village. After Unt-Ork approved her, she swore to act at once and promised him 500 women when he returned. He went to Filos, meeting Joinu's friend Kleigo. Kleigo had heard nothing of her fellow villagers, and when Jack told her that Joinu was alive she burst into tears of joy, barely registering that Unt-Ork had tested and passed her. Wiping her cheeks, she too promised Jack a small army and ran off to start finding people. All of them received Unt-Ork's strange necklaces.

Jack's final stop was the base at Gorovi. News of the impending revolt had traveled even faster than he had, and he arrived to find a contingent of servants and artisans already waiting for him under the direction of Ebbi, the overthrown Ashi of Sankra's village. Time and hard luck had stripped her of most of her chubbiness and bad attitude, and in their place was a hunger for freedom, mirrored in the eyes of all those around her. Unt-Ork took in the whole roomful of women and nodded firmly, presenting Ebbi with the last necklace.

* * *

Jack finally returned to Tarrenko about a week after he had left, dismissed Ari and Unt-Ork (with the express purpose of ferreting out support), and went to Yazzi Digger's office to make his report.

"Enter," she growled at his knock.

He made his way into the office warily, remembering their last disastrous meeting, and kept his distance. However, even from afar, he could tell something was wrong with Yazzi. Her clothes were stained, her fur was gritty, and she was scribbling furiously on some parchment. Jack stood there silently. He waited for what seemed like an eternity before she noticed him.

Bleary yellow eyes met his black ones. "You have returned," she noted. "And you're alone. Where is your guard?"

Jack got a sudden mental image of the bodies beneath the bridge and willed his face to stay still. "I dismissed them. It was pleasant to visit the bases."

"I see. And…?"

"All appears in order," Jack said carefully. "But I promised a follow-up visit within a few days to each major post, so I'm afraid I must leave again soon."

"That's standard protocol," Yazzi replied.

She suddenly put her pen down with exquisite, unexpected grace, and looked at him with such intensity that Jack began to feel a bit nervous.

"We march tomorrow for the White Mountains. But you won't be coming with us, so you're the perfect man for the job. Give me a name."

Jack blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I don't have time for your idiocy, Renakalli. Give me the name of someone in Troop 50. Anybody. Just do it."

"Uh …" Jack fumbled, thinking quickly. Who did he remember from Troop 50? Wait a minute, there were those two knuckleheaded drunkards he met first thing … what was the name of the big one? … "Xio!" he blurted out. "Ipshen Xio."

Yazzi leaned back and eyed him before sending him a sickly smile of bright teeth. "I always knew there was something special about you. He's the perfect height, and his father was a blacksmith – everyone knows that. It's brilliant. I couldn't have done it better myself. You're dismissed, Renakalli. Tomorrow morning at dawn you will report with the rest of Troop 50 to the courtyard."

Jack had to stop himself from bowing automatically. He took his leave as fast as he could. That glint in Yazzi's eyes … it was enough to tell a much stupider man that he had just done something terribly wrong.

* * *

The next morning proved his suspicions right. The deafening clanking of armor and shouting in the barracks woke him just before dawn. Jack raced outside, still pulling his armor on, and waited with the rest of Troop 50; the men were stamping their feet in the snow, their breath steaming in the air.

"What is happening?" Jack hissed to the man on his right.

"Don't know," the man whispered back. "I heard shouting, though. There's a rumor going around that the killer's been caught."

Jack, still half-asleep, almost asked, "Killer?" but stopped just in time. Of course. His swift execution of those three soldiers last week had been the talk of the base. The men were terrified. He heard from Ari that this pleased the women just a little bit, but still … this did not bode well.

A few minutes later the weary faces of the soldiers were bathed in pale light, and Yazzi Digger stepped out from the barracks, bundled against the early morning chill. She carried an axe and following her, yelling for help and struggling with all his might against the two indecently large soldiers dragging him forward, was Xio.

Jack's insides flipped upside-down.

"Troop 50!" Yazzi Digger boomed. "After a week of investigating, I have caught the man who killed three of your fellow soldiers at the Wall! It is him! Ipshen Xio!"

She pointed at Xio, who was now being forced to his knees by his guard, quite close to a wide, flat tree-stump. He was proclaiming his innocence loudly and frantically.

"He has confessed!" Yazzi continued viciously.

And the rest of the men, much to Jack's alarm, were motionless, red-eyed and slack-jawed, watching as one as Yazzi studied her axe and Xio was dragged towards the stump. One of his guards held his body still, while the other held his head down on the wood.

"And he will pay for his crime."

Xio was struggling madly. That was when Jack saw it – the man's eyes were clear. Somehow, the brainwashing had been lifted from him. He would spend his final moments on earth horribly lucid.

And Jack, for all his knowledge of the world, of right and wrong, was paralyzed. He couldn't step forward and fight for Xio. The rest of the troop would attack him, and then he would be forced to kill everybody, thus defeating his plans and blowing his cover. But he couldn't just let Xio die, either.

His dark eyes darted around. The men were still. The guards were holding firm. Xio was screaming for his mother. Yazzi was standing above him, a crazed look in her eyes, the huge axe raised up. Sweat raced down Jack's neck.

"STOP!" he thundered suddenly.

The guards looked up. Xio stared at him and kept protesting feebly, his brain not quite caught up with his babbling mouth. Yazzi was so surprised at his outburst that she flung the axe behind her, where it stuck in the fence. She recovered quickly.

"What is the meaning of this, Renakalli?" she barked.

Jack pulled himself up tall. "If you will recall General, I named him. I demand the honor of killing him myself. Besides," he continued on bravely, "Execution is a foul act – work beneath a warrior of your stature."

Several days seemed to pass as Yazzi regarded Jack across the yard, until finally she put one hand on her furry hip and nodded.

"Very well, Renakalli. Execute him yourself. I will watch."

That was the last thing Jack wanted to hear. Thinking very fast, he gave Yazzi the briefest smile. "I'm afraid that if I execute this man, I must adhere to the way of my people, which dictates that executions take place in private."

Yazzi raised an eyebrow, and for a terrible moment Jack thought all was lost, but she finally huffed in resignation. "Whatever. Kill him out in the forest, and bring back proof. I will be inside; I have to brief the troops. We march at noon. Troop 50! Inside! Now!"

The other men obeyed her, marching back into the main fortress. It was only Jack, Xio, and the two guards holding him down left in the yard, and Xio was starting to babble again.

"No, please, please no, I'll do whatever you want. Please, spare my life! I'm not a soldier! I'm not a soldier! I didn't kill anybody!"

Jack paid him no mind. He looked around the yard, taking in an abandoned wheelbarrow nearby. With a sharp look and a snap of his fingers, he got the attention of the guards.

"Tie him up and put him in the wheelbarrow. I will finish the job in the forest."

Several moments of struggling and caterwauling later, Xio was trussed up like a turkey and thrown into the wheelbarrow. Jack nodded at the guards.

"Dismissed."

The guards saluted and ran back into the warmth of the lodge. Jack waited until they had started on their way before starting the wheelbarrow towards the woods, Xio yelling the whole way.

Finally, they crunched through the bushes and into a secluded clearing. It was a sea of white against the charcoal black trunks of curious trees, which bore round red fruit – in the dead of winter. Jack noted this with mild interest. Honestly, nothing really surprised him anymore.

He unsheathed his sword, his eyes hooded and calm. Xio saw the non-Gunzai blade glinting in the pinkish dawn light. Ordinarily, he would have asked about the strange weapon, but he was beyond reason right now. He sucked in a huge breath and let out a scream so deafening and terrified that it sounded like he had been stabbed in the chest.

Perfect.

Jack clapped a hand over Xio's mouth and stared keenly into the other man's frightened eyes.

"I am not going to kill you," he said softly. "But I will let go only if you promise not to make a sound."

Xio blinked, and then nodded under Jack's hand. Jack lifted his hand, cut the bonds, and helped the dazed soldier out of the wheelbarrow.

"I owe you an apology," said Jack to a stunned Xio. "I named you only because Yazzi asked me for a name at random. She has no idea who killed those men at the Wall."

Xio regarded him, calming down. He seemed to realize that he was safe. "Whatever you owe me, you just paid in full. In fact, I owe _you_, I think. Thank you."

Jack nodded and sheathed his sword. Xio again watched the blade very carefully, a thoughtful look coming onto his face now that he was more coherent.

"I am to bring back proof of your death," said Jack.

Xio smiled. "Leave that to me. Here." He stripped off his armor and handed Jack his raggedy undershirt. "Run this through once with your sword."

Jack did so as Xio shook the nearest tree. A big red fruit plopped down into the snow, and he brought it over to Jack.

"Pierce it," Xio said, "Right there."

Jack poked the fruit sharply while Xio spread his undershirt out in the snow. The soldier grabbed the fruit and poured its thick red juice liberally onto the spot where Jack had ripped the shirt with his sword.

Jack scratched his head. "Yazzi will be fooled by this?"

"They don't call it Blood Fruit for no reason, soldier," Xio said, and winked, pouring more juice into the wheelbarrow. "We're just lucky these trees were still bearing. Normally all the fruit drops before February."

Jack accepted the undershirt and smiled. "Well, I suppose you are dead, now."

"Better dead than brainwashed," said Xio as he stood up. He cast a piercing glance in Jack's direction. "Speaking of which, aren't you? Brainwashed, I mean."

"Um … I am secretly fighting it," Jack said finally, which was true, although he wasn't talking about the mind-control.

"Right. Well, thanks," said Xio, holding out his hand for a shake.

Jack bowed, from force of habit. Even as he recognized his mistake he realized (much to his alarm) that Xio did not look remotely surprised at this. It appeared that the tall soldier, for all his former oafishness, had added one and one and gotten seventeen.

Xio narrowed his eyes slightly. "You're him, aren't you?"

It wasn't a question.

Jack pulled himself up tall. He had to end this conversation right now. "Who I am is none of your concern. Leave this place and tell no one what happened here."

Xio obeyed the command. He snapped his mouth shut against the comment he was bursting to make and stood there for a moment, clenching his fists. But finally he smiled, and graced Jack with a low, respectful bow.

"Thank you, friend. You helped me. I want to help you in return. Do me the honor of not stopping me."

And before Jack could answer, he hared off through the trees.

Jack watched him go. He slung the stained undershirt into the wheelbarrow and dragged it back to the fortress alone. He would tell Yazzi that he had mutilated Xio's body and left it for the wolves … in the tradition of his people.

* * *

TBC 


	14. Thirteen: The Gathering Storm

13. _The Gathering Storm_

And so it went. Jack went from base to base, coaching the fighters of the newly-named resistance group "Jissa." The spider woman's name was befitting an effort like this.

It had a rocky start. Convincing the servants and artisans that they should fight was not easy, but his plants at the bases were slowly gathering resistance fighters. Convincing the blind healers that _they_ could help, however, was nigh impossible.

Jack explained it to Sankra one more time. It was past midnight and they were whispering through the bars down in the holding cell. Jack was running a terrible risk just being here after hours and she knew it. Still, that wasn't doing much to change her mind.

"Jack, we're _blind_," she said, banging her head against the bars in frustration. "I'm telling you, unless somebody's injured, we'd just be in the way."

"And I tell _you_ that every member of Jissa must be able to fight."

The other healers of Tarrenko were hanging on every word. Sankra had become their de facto leader during their imprisonment.

She groaned. "If I say yes, we could be killed."

"I you say no," Jack whispered forcefully, "You _will_ be killed. And if that happened … I could not bear it."

It must have been the rough, pleading tone of his voice. Someone sighed wistfully.

"Shut up, Lila, this is serious," Sankra lobbed over her shoulder. She turned back to Jack, reached through the bars and snatched his hand.

"We do know something that could help," she admitted. "But you have to promise me that we'll be your last resort as an attack."

"I …"

"Promise me."

Jack squeezed her hand. "I promise."

"Then we're in."

"Yee ha!" said a healer in the back. "Long live Jissa! Revolution! Forward ho!"

She took two steps and smashed face first into the nearest wall. Jack winced.

* * *

And so it went. 

The next two months were a flurry of training. Jack oversaw the whole process, right under the noses of the Generals.

Errol was the first to learn how to properly heft a spear. She learned from Jack using a hacked-off tree branch. Like the other regiment leaders, she decided that training could only safely go on after sundown, so she was regularly pulling her troops out of bed in the middle of the night. Within two weeks, the ten lines of bleary-eyed fighters were a perfectly coordinated attack machine.

Within three weeks, Ari had mastered the broadsword. Well it wasn't exactly a broadsword, it was more like a stick with a weight tied on the end, but she swung it in a perfectly controlled arc and pulled it to a stop three inches from Jack's face. Soon she had thirty women under her command learning the skill.

Joinu's fighters were progressing well. At one in the morning they were completing their practice session in the yard. Jack watched as one of them whopped her opponent into the dirt with a perfect judo throw.

Kleigo's breath frosted in the midnight air. A month into the training, her archers were getting quite accurate. She accepted a huge bunch of freshly-wrapped arrows (little more than dowels with feathers) from an artisan as her troops took practice shots with sticks. Jack checked the targets. Most of them were full of arrows. Not bad for firing with only the feeble light of a few candles.

Ebbi inspected a bamboo roll-down breastplate by the light of a small candle. Satisfied, she nodded at the worker who made it and put it on, tying it around her waist.

The artisans at all the bases were working overtime. The underground army needed temporary armor and weapons, and the workers were happy to provide them. Life had become a continuous stream of completing regular projects while secretly melting down glass to create pointy things. Kiki admired her latest project: a blue dagger. She eyed it and slipped it into her belt. Her hands had never been so steady.

Unt-Ork had a sizeable collection by now. She grabbed another glass ball, made of beads that the beadworkers had melted down and re-blown, draped in a wick, and poured in some smelly petrol. She capped it with hot wax and rolled it into her mattress with the others: that made 169 hand-bombs. It also meant she had to sleep on the floor, but that was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

* * *

The other Jissa forces had integrated the few healers they had into their regiments, acting in their original capacity. But Tarrenko had so many that Jack decided to train them as their own unit. 

"The techniques I will show you," he told them, "Will save your life if you are attacked."

He had joined them in their cage. Sankra stood with her friends, listening to Jack and absently twirling the pendant of her necklace – a small pink bottle.

"Problem," she said. "We can't see you."

"You do not need to," said Jack.

He walked over to Sankra and took her hand, leading her out to the center of the cell. He pulled out some ragged cloth strips from under his armor.

"First, we join."

He stood behind her and gently tied her wrists to his wrists and her ankles to his ankles. He was impressively large and warm against her back. She tried, without success, to squash a smile.

"And now we move. Keep close to me."

He began to work through a twenty-step meditative form, shifting his weight and moving his arms and legs gracefully, attacking imaginary opponents with blocks and slow punches. Sankra struggled at first to go where he went, to make her hands and feet do what his did, but before long they were breathing in time, heartbeats synchronized, moving as one.

The other healers were getting antsy, so Jack tied himself to each of the other 12 women in the cage for a bit, letting them all have their turn. Sankra was the only one who showed any ability. It was disappointing.

A month into it, however, he was glad he hadn't given up on them. The healers' other senses had kicked into overdrive to make up for their blindness. Their compensation and determination, combined with Jack's training, was slowly changing them from a group of defenseless women into a small troop of Amazons.

* * *

It was mid-March when Jack finally decided the regiments were ready. The bases, monolithic testaments to greed and bloodlust, were about to implode thanks to the combined preparation of thousands and thousands of ill-treated people. Primitive armor, bushels of arrows, and scads of stick-spears were squirreled away in storage sheds. Knives and daggers and hand-bombs were tucked into the pockets of neatly pressed skirts. Fists trained in the fine art of combat for two solid months clenched in anticipation at the sight of soldiers, but the slaves' faces were placid as ever. 

The Gunzai Empire wouldn't know what hit it.

All that remained was to raise the alarm. Jack had worked out the system with the other bases. Each satellite of the central palace had a huge fire tower, meant to be lit in bad weather conditions to light the way for soldiers.

And so, on a fateful blustery night, Jack climbed to the top of Tarrenko's fire tower and lit the flame. Ari watched through her telescope, looking out into the night. A few moments later, a tiny light flickered in the distance. A member of Jissa had lit the tower of Jilken. Ari raised her right hand as a sign of success and turned her telescope in the opposite direction. The bases weren't visible to each other during the day, but at night, with nothing to interrupt the white light flickering from the towers, the fire towers were clear beacons in the darkness.

Jack knew that the fire signal was going around the circle. They had already caught the attention of the forces at Jilken, which would in turn signal Spum, Filos, and Gorovi. Gorovi's fire tower was also visible from Tarrenko.

Ari saw it glow first. She raised her right hand again. The second sign.

Jack took a bag of red powder from Unt-Ork and gulped a little bit. Attacking at night was very risky, and he knew some people wouldn't make it out of this rebellion alive, but the rising moon gave them one thing: the element of surprise. It was their best chance for overpowering the bases and overthrowing the Empress. If they were going to act, they had to act now. Jack emptied the bag over the flames and stood back. Sparks flew and the fire turned electric blue.

It was the third sign. Jilken would follow their lead, as would the other bases, but their attack was starting right now. Hundreds of feet below him, the march began across the muddy ground. The Tarrenko regiment, 200 strong, bundled in their rags and tied securely into their best-we-could-do armor, ran silently into the fortress, weapons ready. They were ready to take back their lives and get some well-earned revenge.

Scaring soldiers half to death, stripping them of their weapons, and throwing as many as possible into the healers' recently vacated dungeon before Yazzi Digger figured out what was happening seemed to be just the ticket.

The war was on.

* * *

TBC 


	15. Fourteen: Surprises

14. _Surprises_

"Go! Go! Go!" Ari hollered at the last fighter to enter.

Jack leapt down onto the ground behind her and drew his sword. They nodded at each other and charged forward into the darkness of the base. There were yells of surprise up ahead, and some clanking armor and scuffling noises, but by the time Jack made it into the main lodge, the first struggle was nearly over. Troops 40, 41, and 42 were all staggering around, bleary-eyed and unarmed, menaced by the Jissa regiment.

A few women looked up at Jack and smiled. Jack returned it and jabbed his thumb at the door that lead to the dungeons.

"Pack them in."

"Aye sir!" said an enthusiastic spear-thrower. "Come on you louts, move it! This way!" She poked a grubby soldier in the rear end with her spear and he yelped in surprise.

In minutes, three of the nine troops at Tarrenko were out of commission, thoroughly convinced that their fortress had been taken over by enemy forces. Jack held out a hand to stop the women in the main hall.

"We still have the element of surprise, I think. I will wake each troop in turn and herd them in here."

Ari nodded at him, and for the next half hour, things went like clockwork. The soldiers, sleepy and surrounded, (most were still in their night shirts) did little to fight back. Unt-Ork took half of the Jissa fighters and cleaned out all the newly-empty barracks, "liberating" every weapon and bit of armor they could find and exchanging their own hand-made protective gear and weapons for the stronger metal stuff. Soon, most of the regiment was delightedly clanking around in helmets and breastplates several sizes too big, laughing as they gathered real swords and good, iron spears.

Meanwhile, a small contingent of fighters (the cooks, mostly) went to the kitchens and took plenty of sacks of raw foodstuffs, leaving a decent amount of food behind for the captives. In order for the resistance to escape properly they needed a head start, and the only way to achieve this was to lock all the soldiers away – but those flimsy doors wouldn't hold. When the men escaped the dungeons, and when they met the locked iron gates of the fortress and realized they were trapped inside, they would need to be able to survive until the resistance took out the Empress and gave them back their minds. Nothing was clean-cut in this war. Even the soldiers weren't strictly enemies. They were fathers and brothers and sons, and if any could be spared, it was worth it.

Jack ran from barrack to barrack, doing shepherd duty. It was almost scary how well the soldiers took his orders. Most of them went where they were told without question, marching themselves into the dungeons with their hands on their heads while members of the Jissa regiment taunted them and poked at them. Without directions to smite anything that moved and armed to achieve this, were remarkably docile. And better yet, it seemed that Yazzi had not been alerted to the situation.

Everything was going perfectly … perhaps too perfectly.

Troop 50 threw the world into its rightful balance. The soldiers refused, point-blank, to take orders from Jack, even when he menaced one of them with his sword and threatened to kill him if he didn't move.

It was time for an intervention. Ari and her sword-swinging regiment, now armed with real swords, "convinced" them with little fuss (only three slaves were injured) and trapped them in the dungeons, which were now so full of soldiers that every cage was crammed with them, arms and legs and what-not sticking out of the bars at random angles, eyes blinking in confusion.

When the last soldier marched in, Jack slammed the door to the dungeons and turned to the women.

"I call victory!" he yelled, and raised his sword.

The fighters cheered. One raised a fist in triumph, but her armor was too heavy for her, and she overbalanced and fell over.

And that was the precise moment, although no one was to know it, that everything went to hell.

Unt-Ork came charging in, panting, followed by her raiding party, loaded down with the soldiers' weapons and extra armor. They were passing things out at random. The alien wasn't helping, though. She was on her hands and knees, breathing hard, sweat dripping down her grey face. Around her neck was a string of glass bubbles that clanked together. They looked exactly like the glass pendants she'd given the other resistance leaders.

"Have the other leaders made contact with you?" Jack asked. "We will only move once they have."

Unt-Ork had devised a rather clever system for communication. Each resistance leader had a necklace with a glass bubble pendant. When the pendant was smashed, it would open a mental link with her. Unt-Ork had warned them against smashing it too soon, as maintaining mental links was a huge energy drain on her, so the leaders had all agreed only to open the mental links once the bases had been taken care of. Once the channels were open though, Unt-Ork could relay news back and forth between all the regiments.

"Yes, Errol, Joinu, and Kleigo have all made contact," she said. "The dust is clearing. Errol's regiment took the base without incident, but after the soldiers surrendered, no one could find Portkippis. Joinu and Kleigo's armies lost people but they contained the soldiers. And Ebbi's army took their base too, but it was a bloodbath. Ebbi is dead –stabbed. She smashed her communicator and turned it over to someone named Tryeste."

Jack bowed his head. "How many are gone?"

"Total?"

"Yes."

Unt-Ork mopped off her face and closed her eyes, concentrating. "Two hundred."

Jack gritted his teeth in anger. This was unacceptable. The whole idea of taking the bases (Phase 1) was to do it quickly and without loss of life. He knew they would lose some fighters … but senseless slaughter, especially this early in the game, was Not The Point.

"I don't want to say this," Unt-Ork went on, "But I think we've lost the element of surprise. We got lucky, but something went wrong. Somebody must have tipped off the other bases before the attacks could begin … that's why the other three regiments lost so many."

There was a sudden hush in the room.

"Yeah, well, I hate to bring more gloom, but has anybody seen General Digger?" Ari asked into the silence. "I mean, she's not really bright, but she's got better ears than I do. We weren't exactly ninja fighters – she has to have heard _something_. Where the hell is she?"

"That's why I came running," said Unt-Ork. "She's gone."

"And so is General Portkippis!" said Sankra, standing with the other healers. "They could both be on their way to the Central Palace to warn the Empress! She'll be rallying forces before we get there!"

"I know," said Jack.

Everyone turned to him. "I did not wish for this to happen, but I foresaw the possibility," he said. "We have lost a huge advantage. We have no way to surprise the forces of the Empress any more, and I am not sure we can face down her army without sustaining heavy losses. Remember, you have trained yourselves for two months to contain and disarm, to avoid killing at all costs. They have been trained to kill first and think later."

"What's your point?" Ari asked, narrowing her eyes.

"My point, and my order, is that all of you remain behind. Stand on the perimeter of Tarrenko, make camp here, and make sure no soldiers escape. Unt-Ork, relay that same order to the other regiments."

But Unt-Ork didn't budge, and the whole regiment stared at him in shock.

"WHAT?" said some outraged person in the back.

"We have lost enough fighters already, and realistically, this is a fight you cannot win," Jack explained. "You would all be killed. It is safer if you devote yourselves to containing the soldiers and I go alone."

There was a sudden angry buzz in the room.

"That," said Ari, as she stood rather impressively and sheathed her new broadsword, "is completely insane."

Sankra faced Jack and spoke to him sternly. The effect was a little off as she was speaking to a spot ten inches to his left.

"I agree. All the other forces are already on the move for the Central Palace. You would ask them to turn back, even the Gorovi regiment, after everything they've just been through at that base? That's nuts!"

"What if they are met on the road and ambushed? They are unprotected!" Jack argued, but he could tell he was losing this one.

"Better unprotected than hiding in the shadows of a place where so many died, fighting with their backs against a wall," Sankra countered. "You have to take us along. There's no guarantee of anything, but it's safer for everyone to be farther from the enemy and closer to you."

"Well said!" somebody piped up in the back. The rest of the women were mumbling agreement.

"We won't get a better opportunity to stop this," Ari added. "And we have to assume," she finished, grabbing her cloak angrily, "That the snake-eyed, drooling bitch is making a run for the Central Palace to warn the Empress. I say we get the hell out of here and help you out, no matter what it comes to!"

There was a roar of approval at her words. Jack looked around at his fighters, all now wearing the soldiers' armor and carrying their new weapons. Many of them were grinning at him, their faces grimy and tired. Some of these people were going to die, no matter what he did. But Ari was right – they deserved the chance to do something.

Jack gave them a brief smile. "You are all brave and strong. And I can think of no higher honor," he said quietly, "Than fighting at your side. Come. We march."

* * *

So Jack led the tattered regiment into the night. It was a tense and silent crowd that clanked along through the wind and rain, knowing they had no hope of reaching the palace before Yazzi Digger. Soon, there would be patrols issuing from Gunzai, looking for the resistance – with the express purpose of destroying it.

Sankra held Jack's hand and the other healers chained out behind her for navigation. Ari headed up her company, with Unt-Ork riding piggyback and saying "Yes, go ahead" and giving marching directions to what seemed like thin air, but everyone knew better.

They went all night, and hunkered down the next day in a grove of trees. With the benefit of day light, Jack now had a better idea of where they were heading. He looked out over the hilly, tree-choked terrain they were facing. There in the distance, tiny and dark, was the central palace at Gunzai.

It was at least three nights' journey from here at full march. And that wasn't even counting if they got stopped. Jack sighed and looked back at his regiment.

Life, as chaotic and terrifying as it was, had settled for the moment. Cooking fires were going. Food was boiling for the midday meal. Almost everyone had taken off their armor, and the women hardly looked like the soldiers they were.

The scouts had returned with word that no troops were coming their way, and Unt-Ork had informed him that the rest of the regiments were camped out like they were, all approaching Gunzai from different angles. It would be a multi-directional offensive once they got close enough.

Unt-Ork was asleep, leaning against Ari and snoring. Ari was sitting with her back against a tree, talking to Sankra, who was stretched out on the grass. Jack wandered over.

"Hey there," she said. "Sit down."

"Who's there?" asked Sankra, as Jack flumped down onto the grass.

"Him," Ari replied, and this was enough, because Jack was the only man around. "So wait a minute. You know my Gui-Gao?"

"Sure," said Sankra, smiling and looking about six inches to Ari's right. "She's from my village. Beadworker. She's very nice, but a bit … well, you know."

"Yes, I know," said Ari. "Did the Empress do that to her?"

Sankra rubbed at the skin on one of her fingers. She sighed. "No. She was fine once, but then her family married her off to a man who beat her. He did a number on her one night and left her for dead in a ditch. Someone from O-mashen was traveling home and took pity on her. I watched Uta heal most of her injuries. But there was nothing she could do about …" she tapped her head. "That part. Things like that, we can't fix."

All three of them were silent for a moment. Jack's thoughts meandered to the thing _he_ was trying to fix, something that was looking a bit more impossible with every moment. This was after all a battle of slaves versus soldiers, no matter how one sliced the pie. He wondered where Xio was now, if he had escaped, if he would be able to help. And as much as he didn't want to think about it, he wondered when the fighting would begin, and who would live, and who would not.

* * *

They traveled onward for three more nights and camped for three more days without incident, and the reports from the other regiments were mercifully the same. Unt-Ork got very tired of saying "All quiet." But on the last night, when they had traveled down mossy slopes and approached the edges of the solemn plain where the castle stood, now looking much more imposing with its thick outer walls and no perceivable towers, two scouts came running to Jack in a panic.

"Sir! Sir!" shouted the first. "Soldiers! Hide!"

Jack turned and gave a silent signal to the rest of the regiment. In seconds, women were ducking and diving every which way behind trees, armor and supplies clanking noisily as they ran.

He ended up behind a tree with Unt-Ork. Some base instinct asserted itself and he picked her up, should they have to run again. She allowed herself to be held and leaned her head against his chest. He could feel his heart hammering against her skull.

Suddenly Jack heard the quiet clomp-clomp-clomp of hundreds of feet coming their way. The soldiers were not in sight yet. Most of the regiment was absolutely still. Ari was adjusting her grip, her eyes glinting in the moonlight, her ears twitching this way and that. Sankra and the other healers were secure behind another tree. Each of them had hooked themselves to each other by their belts. Sankra's hands were clasped together tightly and she was mumbling an incantation or a prayer. It was hard to tell which.

Unt-Ork gasped and pressed her face against Jack's breastplate. Something was wrong.

"What is it?" Jack whispered.

The little alien opened her fathomless black eyes and stared at Jack in desperation. "Errol's regiment is under attack. They've lost six. What do we do?"

Screams began to ring out into the night. They were coming from a long way off, bouncing off the valley walls and terrifying the Tarrenko regiment. Some of them shook and quivered so their armor clanked a little.

Jack gulped and felt his heart speed up as he considered what to do. The soldiers were out on patrol, and hadn't discovered their regiment yet. They were right on the edge of plain, within fighting distance of the castle. There was just enough moonlight to make their armor shine eerily and that, combined with some good old-fashioned war cries, would help their odds a bit.

If there was a clearer sign to charge in and help, he could not think of one.

"We attack," he hissed.

And with that, he gave a low whistle. Ari's head whipped around. She nodded at him and raised her broadsword.

Several things happened at once. The sword fighters made to move. The healers, understanding the noise, all stood up and joined hands for balance. Sniggla, the fat melon-ball creature, had proven useless with a sword so she was assigned the duty of leading the healers to a reasonably safe spot. She darted out and grabbed Sankra's hand. The artisans took out their knives and daggers and waited for the final order.

"Unt-Ork," Jack whispered, "Tell Errol we have our own battle but we will make for her position as fast as we can. Tell her to hold the line, disarm the soldiers, and do her level best not to kill anybody."

Unt-Ork nodded and scrunched her eyes shut again to give the order. Jack put her down. She trotted off to join the healers. Jack took out his Gunzai-issue sword. He had safely strapped his sheathed katana underneath his backplate. He had no intention of using it, but he didn't want to lose it, either.

The soldiers were closing in on their regiment. Jack could feel it. The clomp-clomp-clomp was getting much louder now. He could see them coming now, a troop of over 200 men. He was almost to the point of raising his sword and letting out a war cry when he heard a voice behind him in the bushes.

"Samurai," it whispered.

Jack spun around. "Who is there?" he whispered back, mindful that the soldiers were getting close.

"Never mind," said the voice. "When you attack the Empress, you must break her golden staff. If you can do that, you will save everyone. Good luck!"

There was a rustling and then Jack was alone again, confused, but not for long. The troop of soldiers came marching up right to the grove where the Tarrenko regiment was hiding. It was now or never.

Jack nodded at Ari across the copse of trees, lifted his sword high into the air, gave a battle-cry and charged the soldiers head-on.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The rest of the regiment followed suit. They burst out of the trees like a swarm of harpies, screaming and using their weapons with a grace that would have done Jack proud had he been paying attention.

The soldiers, scared out of what remained of their minds, clumsily fought back. It was pandemonium. Weapons were swinging wildly in every direction, and most of the soldiers' swords went clattering to the ground in a few minutes. Soon, but not soon enough, they were surrounded by the Tarrenko regiment, weapons pointed at them from all directions.

"Remove everything you wear!" Jack shouted at them, and the men, seeing they were surrounded, wasted no time in taking off their armor.

Once they were all confused and shivering in their underclothes, Jack menaced the one soldier with his sword. "And now you will all run that way."

He pointed with the tip away from Gunzai and back to Tarrenko. "If you return," he went on, pressing the side of his sword to a nearby soldier's neck, "You will be killed."

The soldiers looked at the regiment. Ari swiped out with her broadsword and some cooks started growling. More screams rang out from Errol's struggle far away

"LEAVE! NOW!" Jack shouted.

The soldiers yelled and fled in a confused mass, leaving all their belongings behind.

Jack whistled to get his regiment's attention. "Everyone take one item with you. We can't leave anything here in case they come back."

The regiment set to the task, picking up armor and weapons and shields and hip-pouches of Borko beans. In ten minutes they were ready to move.

"We go to the aid of Jilken!" Jack yelled, finding the front of his troops. "This way!"

He made haste along the edge of plains, the regiment stringing out behind him.

* * *

TBC 


	16. Fifteen: One Hundred Yards

15. _One Hundred Yards_

It was a good thing they'd taken those soldiers' weapons and armor. By the time the Tarrenko regiment reached the Jilken skirmish it was blindingly apparent, even under the weak moonlight, why Errol and her troop had lost six people in under a minute. They were still wearing their old hand-made armor and working with tree branches. The reason they hadn't just taken the better armor at the base and escaped in it was anybody's guess; Jack permitted himself a few seconds to be exasperated. It was too late for anger or finger-wagging, though. Weapons were clashing and several deaths had occurred as a result. That had to stop.

So Jack and half of the Tarrenko forces kept the soldiers busy, disarming and knocking out everyone they could reach, while the other half distributed the plundered armor and weapons among Errol's newly-thinned regiment. The healers set to work getting everyone they could back on their feet. By the time the healers had finished, they'd saved a meager thirty. Fifty were gone. But the regiment, now beefed up with the Tarrenko forces, charged the soldiers. The iron-clad fighters of the Empire surrendered, and at Jack's order handed over their weapons and shields. They ran off the past the Jilken and Tarrenko forces and up the valley wall, out of sight.

Jack grabbed an abandoned suit of armor and put it on. He didn't need to be recognized as Kip Renakalli, not now. As he pulled on the breastplate, Unt-Ork came running over.

"News," she said, breathing hard. "The other forces are doing well."

"They are fighting?" Jack asked, confused.

"Sort of," she replied, scratching her head. "Troops of soldiers are being ordered right at them, in near perfect sight-lines, and the girls are cleaning up! They're taking the men's armor and sending them packing. It's the strangest thing!"

It was indeed the strangest thing. That so many soldiers could march towards the well-camouflaged hiding places of the resistance fighters and be taken down so easily warranted some consideration, but Jack had no time for this. Ari was whistling at him, a warning sign.

"Ipshen!" she yelled, waving her binoculars. "Flags are flying at the palace! It's a charge! It's a charge!"

Jack nodded and grabbed his helmet. "Unt-Ork, order all regiments to prepare themselves. Company ready!" he yelled to everyone else.

Unt-Ork sent the message. The wait for a reply was tense, punctuated with armored resistance fighters clanking slightly and the _schhhick _of weapons being drawn. Finally, Unt-Ork caught Jack's eye and nodded.

"Tell them to march!"

Unt-Ork began to communicate this, just as Ari swept her up onto her back. She wasn't about to leave her little friend behind, or worse, lose her in the confusion. Jack turned to his fighters, their group now about 300 hundred strong. "Line up!" he hollered.

The women did as he asked and packed together, pulling the healers into the center of their group. Everyone drew weapons and kept their shields at the ready. Jack grabbed a new shield for himself, drew his Gunzai sword, and jumped up on a nearby rock. He could feel his heart speeding up, as it always did before battle. His beard flapped lightly in the night breeze.

He could see the soldiers coming now, swarming over a distance rise like a coming plague. He raised his sword, prepared to direct the charge, when the image assailed him, stopping him dead.

_He stands on this very rock, dressed in this armor, with a long beard and helmet. He points with a sword, directing fighters. His eyes are shadowed and tired, but firm._

That was the picture the giant had shown him long ago, the grinning metal man with strange spectacles.

A little wisp of hope began to rise in Jack's chest. If that vision had been true, then the giant had not lied to him. Perhaps, he thought with a sudden start of joy, this attack would point his way home … assuming of course, that he survived it.

He sucked in a breath, lifted his sword high in the air, and let loose a deafening war cry. His legs pumped as he ran to the front of the regiment, slammed his face-cage down, and charged forward. The women behind him charged too, screaming like harpies and gearing up for what was sure to be a fierce battle.

His own yells were quickly drowned out by those of his fighters and they raced on, meeting the soldiers three hundred yards from the castle.

Swords met with scrapes and flashes of light. Warriors of all shapes and sizes shrieked and yelled and cursed and took swipes at each other. Jack was hard-pressed to defend himself while not killing those attacking him. Many of the Empire's soldiers were getting knocked out or incapacitated in other less elegant ways.

And then the arrows began to rain down.

"Beetle position!" Jack shouted.

Without preamble, the entire battalion closed ranks around the healers and hefted iron shields over their heads or in front of them. The effect was of a huge gleaming pill bug with many feet and the arrows, not being as sturdy as the shields, bounced off. Jack sighed in relief. He was pleased to have learned this technique from the Spartans.

Unfortunately, under all those shields was a rather frightened group of fighters. And even worse, two people were trying to take charge, yelling conflicting instructions. Someone, Ari perhaps, yelled "Company right!" just as another voice (Jack couldn't identify it) hollered "Company left!"

Just as Jack beaned one soldier with the handle of his sword and kicked another out of the way, his ragtag regiment tried to follow both instructions at once. Half went left, and the other half went right, effectively splitting the beetle down the middle, and leaving that middle – the blind healers – totally vulnerable.

Jack swore creatively and acted fast. He fought his way through the attacking forces and attempted to herd his now frightened regiment.

"Halt!" he shouted, hoping against hope that this wouldn't get much worse. "Left flank right! Right flank left! NOW!"

That was all he managed before another wave of soldiers came charging at them, redoubling the efforts of the first. His orders had no effect. Panic overtook the battalion. The "beetle" dissolved into individual warriors, terrified for their lives and randomly swinging their weapons, a heartbreaking one hundred yards from the castle.

It was instant bedlam.

Swords clashed. Fighters screamed. Dirt and mud flew in all directions. The ground grew slippery with blood.

Arrows started raining _up _at the castle. It meant the resistance archers under Joinu or Kleigo (Jack forgot which) had arrived. That at least stopped more arrows from raining _down_, but Jack knew this was only a temporary fix. Soon enough, the women would get annoyed or scared and start aiming to kill. And as they'd been training to hit targets from fifty paces in near total darkness, the odds of them ending some lives today were very good.

The opposing soldiers were yelling like bloodthirsty trolls, their eyes glowing so red and fierce that some of the women were actually backing away instead of fighting them, although Ari merely slammed the face-cage of her helmet down and hollered, "You Nakluks don't scare me! YAAAAH!" and charged right back at them, with Unt-Ork on her shoulders. The little alien was clinging to the cat-woman like a backpack, her eyes scrunched shut. A dozen brave souls charged after Ari, swinging their weapons and war-crying.

The healers were not faring nearly as well. Instead of following Sniggla and retreating to the edge of the battle, as was the original plan, they seemed to be stuck at a spot about ten yards to Jack's left. They had formed a tight circle around something, all of them facing outward, their faces stretched tight across their snarling mouths.

"A-ley a-ley a-LEY!" Sankra whooped, and her fellow healers answered the call as a show of solidarity, rattling their weapons and swiping at thin air.

It was obvious that they were defending themselves with whatever they'd found on the ground nearby. Their arsenal ranged from Sankra's spear to a breast plate that someone was holding up as a shield to a huge, bloodied broadsword that one tiny healer was struggling to lift. And anything that came within six feet of their little circle, friend or foe, was getting madly swiped at, accompanied by a chorus of screams and chanting.

Jack began to panic. The healers had no shields and less than five senses at their disposal. They were sitting ducks; their guide had mysteriously vanished. Where was Sniggla? Had she abandoned her charges and left the field? Ari had warned him against her, after all. Jack had no choice now but to lead them to safety and then rejoin the battle. But first, he had to reach them.

Six soldiers were closing in.

Jack picked up a long fighting stick and began to whirl it around expertly, keeping all six warriors out of striking range. With phenomenal speed he felled each warrior with a thrust or a kick, knocked them all on their rear ends and struck each a final blow that knocked them out.

Somehow, perhaps by scent, Sankra recognized him. "Hold!" she yelled at her band.

"Where is your guide?" Jack hollered at her over the raging battle.

Sankra just breathed heavily and pointed behind her in desperation. Jack looked. There, in the middle of their circle, was Sniggla. She was on her back and very still. Two arrows stuck out of her fat, melon-colored neck.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going from bad to worse.

"You must get off the field!" he yelled.

In a surprising move, Sankra didn't nod. "Not yet!" she hollered back. "How are we doing?"

Since Sankra had never been in an army, Jack was not about to get into the ins and outs of insubordination, especially not in the thick of battle. He looked around, wondering what to say.

Their regiment, against all odds, seemed to be holding off the soldiers. They had lost no ground (they'd actually gained a bit – the regiment was now within 50 yards of the castle), but six long lines of men still guarded the nearest wall of the Gunzai palace, waiting for their chance to charge and probably overpower their forces. They were utterly motionless, waiting for their order.

He explained this to Sankra. And then she nodded, as though deciding something.

"Take my hand!" she yelled, and flung her hand out in front of her. It narrowly missed catching Jack in the chest. He took her hand, flummoxed.

Sankra gave a quick whistle, and soon the rest of the healers were joining hands too. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Remember when I said to use us only as your last resort?" she hollered.

"Yes?"

"Guess what – this is it! Help us line up so we're facing the men at the wall! Get us as close as you can without making them charge!"

Jack was slightly horrified. Whatever she was planning, it sounded big and possibly disastrous. But Sankra was insistent, and the battle was getting louder and worse. There was no choice. He went with it. A few seconds of herding later, and the healers were all facing the wall. A sudden BOOM behind them told Jack that the Jissa fighters were starting to use their hand-bombs. The air turned smoky. The screaming was picking up.

"Sankra!" he yelled, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You are in position!"

She nodded and yelled back, "Move behind us!"

"What are you doing?"

"Getting you over that wall!" she hollered over the sudden noise of a nearby skirmish.

Jack had no time to feel anything just then. He jumped behind her and drew his sword again to defend their rear flank. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ari whirling around in a circle of attacking soldiers, swiping at them with her broadsword and snarling. A few yards from her, a few artisans had made a smaller circle. Kiki was among them, madly swinging a blue glass knife and yelling incoherently in terror or anger … he couldn't tell which.

"On my count, ladies!" Sankra yelled. "One!"

All the healers, still holding hands, brought their arms up into the air.

"Two!"

They all brought their arms down to waist height and pulled back. Jack turned around and faced the castle. Time had slowed to a crawl. The air was tingling around him, full of ancient magic and intent.

"THREE!"

And the entire line of women pushed forward as though the air was made of molasses. Jack raised an eyebrow, but not for long. With a boom that shook the earth beneath his feet, his eyes went wide as everything in front of the healers (with the exception of the castle) got knocked flat. Resistance fighters and soldiers slammed into each other and fell over, bushes uprooted themselves, the ground made waves, and the lines of men in front of the castle wall went sprawling like they'd just been hit with a huge, invisible battering ram. The majority of them had been knocked out by the blow.

"RUN!" Sankra screamed.

Jack's heart broke even as he obeyed. Running on a heady mix of fear and adrenaline, he broke through the line of women, vaulted over groaning, splayed soldiers and sprinted clear up the castle wall. At the top, he paused to ready himself for the jump down into the courtyard below and had a moment of terrible vertigo. Something ached in his chest and his head spun; that was perhaps the last time he would see Sankra alive. He was leaving them all behind – brave fighters, good friends, and the dignified, courageous healers, who now had no one to protect them once those last lines of men got up and decided to charge.

There was screaming and the clash of weapons coming from every direction. The other regiments must have met their own troops of soldiers. It was suddenly hard to focus. A little voice in his head was complaining (loudly) that he would have, once upon a time, done this sort of thing alone.

He banished the thought and leapt silently to the ground. From where he stood, he surveyed the Gunzai castle – a brick monstrosity that looked like a cross between an ancient Egyptian stronghold and a Greek temple. It seemed to have two floors, and on the "upper deck," he supposed it was, archers were fighting, taking aim at their counterparts on the ground. Flocks of arrows were zipping over his head in both directions. Jack saw a long row of columns at the front, about fifty yards from where he crouched in the shadows. To his right, a long, straight marble path disappeared into the center of the columns, where it was met by a burst of bright light – the entrance.

Jack stood up straight against the wall and blended into the darkness as a few guards ran past to join the fight outside. His emotions and mind were settled, now. The only things he felt were cold focus and the weight of his own intentions, settling like a soft lump in his gut. He would be victorious against the Empress; he would free these people or die trying.

Tearing the Gunzai sword from his back, he settled his own sheathed weapon in its place and crept forward, dashing from yard column to yard column, keeping his eyes on his surroundings and his goal. There were no arrows coming at him, which he took for a good omen.

In seconds he was hiding on one side of the brightly lit entrance hall. The hallway was empty and blindingly bright; its walls and floor were made of solid gold. The air was tingling again with a different sort of magic, and he knew this might be a feint, a trap, but he would never get a better chance. Jack darted inside.

This was it.

TBC


	17. Sixteen: Golden Woman

16. _Golden Woman_

Jack jumped into the hallway, eyes darting right and left. He was immediately met by a troop of soldiers heading out to the battle. He stood stock-still and watched as the troop came closer and closer. As they approached, and got larger and larger, Jack gulped. These were no ordinary soldiers. They had no faces, as far as he could tell. Their eyes were glowing red spots under the face-cages of their helmets. They were much bigger than the rest of the Empire fighters, and their spiky armor shone like polished silver, in contrast to the dark, gritty gray of Jack's uniform. The soldier who led them was tall, gleaming like a straight pin in shining armor. He wore a long, blue cloak.

Jack let his eyes sweep over his opponents and kept his face an impassive mask, unwilling to give any inkling that he was not on their side. Half of him itched to attack. Fortunately, his other half was stronger. He kept his sword in its scabbard.

"Ah, Ipshen, there you are!" said the lead soldier. Were those medals on his breastplate? He looked quite self-important, sticking his chest out like that so nobody could miss the decorations.

Jack said nothing. The leader sighed in what was supposed to be an exasperated manner, but it was so exaggerated that Jack took a second look at the man.

"_Report_, soldier!"

Jack almost smiled. Almost. It was Xio in that armor; there was no mistaking that voice or that tall, gangly form. Somehow, his wily ally had infiltrated the ranks … and suddenly the voice in the bushes and all those troops being led straight into Jissa hands made perfect sense.

"We have made considerable gains, sir!" Jack invented, saluting with the wrong hand again. "The resistance is almost defeated! I was told to inform the Empress!"

A ghost of a smile. The tiniest of nods. Xio crossed his arms then, in a hilariously bad impression of haughty contempt.

"_Were _you!" he scathed. "Come here, soldier, I have a better order for you."

Jack eyed the terrifying troop once more. Xio saw Jack's look and feigned impatience. He crooked a finger at him. Jack obediently walked over to the soldier, who put his lips close to Jack's ear and urgently whispered …

"They're robots. The Empire has run out of men. All the generals have their own troop like this. I'm standing in place of Portkippis. I – I killed him. The Princess is in the center of the palace. Look for the giant golden doors. She's being guarded by Yazzi Digger and her troop of these things."

Jack gave a small nod. "I will finish this, Xio. Run. Find the robot troops from Spum, Filos, and Gorovi. Tell them any lie you want, but do not let them leave the castle. If you can, get outside and help the resistance. I fear for them."

Xio gave a small nod, too. "Yes sir." He stood then, and spoke at full voice. "You have your orders, Ipshen! Follow them!"

Jack nodded. He drew his sword, making a flash of light against the golden walls, and Xio ran for it just in time. Jack darted forward with a yell and sliced up through the underside of one armored robot. Its metallic guts poured out onto the floor. If the other robots had any sense of self-preservation, they didn't show it. They drew massive weapons – axes, broadswords and maces – and swung into action against Jack.

Not for long, though.

The robots had many things – laser beams, hand weapons, no feeling nerves. But Jack's fighting spirit had engulfed him and he was a blur, darting in and out of huge metallic legs, gamely testing his sword against the finest metal the Empire could buy. It turned out that, once again, the ancestors had known their craft. Jack had half a dozen bots decommissioned before some of them even knew what was happening. Soon all that could be seen in the hallway was giant cloud of sparks and dust, and flashes of light from a bright sword. And finally, Jack jumped and yelled and brought a massive Horse Cut down on the last unfortunate robot. It split neatly down the middle and fell apart.

Jack looked around, his field of vision suddenly wider; his helmet had been knocked off during the battle. He heaved for breath, picked it up from where it had clattered to the floor, and sheathed his sword. There was no time to waste. He ran for the central chamber. The battle was growing louder outside. He tried not to think about it.

Of course, as soon as he reached the golden doors, the battle was flung clear out of his mind.

"Your highness, if you feel safe here, I should go. I need to take uh, the 'boys,' and head off Renakalli."

It was Yazzi Digger. She sounded smug and pleased. There was a sudden clanking, and Jack realized that Xio was right – the dog-woman had her own troop of those huge mechanical soldiers, and she was guarding the Empress. The way she said 'head off' with such eagerness made a shiver run down his spine.

The Empress's voice rang out. "No. Stay, Digger. Renakalli is busy outside, I am sure. How do you know he leads the resistance?"

"Your Majesty, I caught sight of him at the head of the charge on Tarrenko, before I came to warn you of the rebellion. He is a traitor. He will be cut open, and his belly will spill onto the battlements, and then he will hang by his _guts_ for this terrible slight against Gunzai."

Jack felt no fear at his pronouncement. He had heard worse. A muffled clatter accompanied the words, like someone was kneeling. Digger, probably, to show she was serious and faithful and prepared to do anything.

Jack had no more time to listen. He knocked at the door. So long as he kept his helmet on, he had a chance to surprise her.

"Who goes?" Yazzi Digger boomed.

"Ipshen, Troop 349!" Jack shouted back, rasping his words to disguise his voice. "I have good news!"

There was a long pause, and then finally the door swung open. Jack was almost blinded by the brilliance of the room. It was pure gold, floor to ceiling, rugs to curtains. He squinted up at Yazzi, who looked annoyed by his presence, but not murderous. He was not surprised. His face was hidden, and covered as he was in dirt and the blood of other people, his scent was perfectly disguised. He stepped inside the chamber like he had every right to be there. A bright light was shining on a nearby settee, and across the room a large troop of those same mechanical soldiers stood guard.

Yazzi closed the door. Jack walked toward the bright light, which he assumed was the Empress, and knelt on a golden carpet.

"Rise," the Empress commanded.

He rose, and stared despite himself. The woman who lounged on the cushioned bench stared back. She was astounding. Her skin was the color of the sun, and almost as bright. Every feature on her cold face, every crook and bend in her body, was a sharp, straight line, as though someone had chiseled her out of a huge block of gold. Her hair was the color of ripe wheat, and its style was set and hard like a sculpture atop her head. She wore robes of red and pink and green that lapped over her reclining form, and no shoes on her dainty feet.

But her most remarkable features were her eyes. Each was an empty pool of black, with a red dot in the middle. Both of the red dots were focused on Jack. He immediately looked down.

"Report," she said, almost bored, and twiddled something golden with one hand.

The Staff, Jack realized. It was long and delicate, ornately carved. This had to be the staff Xio told him to break.

"Majesty," he addressed her, his voice still raspy. "I bring good news from the front. We have triumphed. The Resistance is over."

He felt, rather than heard Yazzi rear back behind him.

"What?" she roared. "How can that be? I can still hear noise!"

"The soldiers are celebrating," Jack invented.

The Empress smiled, and stood. She clapped Jack on the shoulder with one cold hand. "Excellent! We are victorious! Well, Digger, it appears you won't have to fight today. Perhaps the next time there is a rebellion, I will have you trot out these new soldiers and you will squash it forthwith."

But Yazzi, having bigger ears than the Empress, was not dissuaded. "This makes no sense!" she shouted. "I still hear the clangs of swords! There are bombs going out there! There is blood to taste! I want to join!" She was petulant by the end, whining like she had been denied a fine new toy.

"Heel, General," the Empress deadpanned.

Yazzi ignored this. Supremely irritated, she whirled on Jack. "Hey, you! Idiot! Where did you get this information? It's obviously wrong!"

Jack turned to face her. He stood close in front of the Empress as though to guard her from Yazzi's wrath.

"The Resistance hasn't been vanquished!" Yazzi finished.

"I did not say the Resistance has been vanquished," Jack rasped. "I said it was _over_."

And in one motion, he drew his sword, stabbed behind him, and withdrew the blade. The Empress gave a pained cry and fell to her knees, gasping in horror. Jack's thrust had caught her all the way through, and the magic in his sword was eating away at her golden skin, like someone had poured acid on her breastbone. The widening hole revealed a large empty space where her heart should have been. She grabbed her chest desperately and dropped the staff with a clatter.

Yazzi screamed. Jack took advantage of her shock. He spun around and lopped off the Empress's head. There was no blood. The Empress, it seemed, was nothing but a cold, empty shell. He grabbed the golden staff in one hand, threatened Yazzi with his sword in the other, and took off his helmet.

Yazzi screamed again, this time in recognition.

"Attack!" she shouted at her soldiers.

The robots rushed for Jack. Jack just smiled a grim smile. As though he hadn't a care in the world, he sheathed his sword. The robots were within ten feet of him when he picked up the Empress's staff, held it high above his head, and with a fierce cry brought it down with a huge crack on the golden floor.

The ensuing explosion rocked the chamber.

Jack sat up coughing and realized he had landed on the settee. He waved away some smoke. Some of the robots had been blown apart by the power of the blast, but the rest were still advancing. Jack got up and fought, dancing through the smoke and slicing away until his arms were heavy and all the rest of the robots had stopped moving. All was quiet for a moment.

And then he heard it. A cough. A groan. Across the chamber, someone else was getting up. Someone else was waving smoke away. Someone else was drawing a weapon.

"How sweet," he heard Yazzi growl. "All that talk of killing you, Renakalli, and now the honor is mine. In fact, I really should thank you before I end you. You've saved me a lot of trouble. With the Empress gone, and you dead, the Gunzai Empire is mine to command!"

Yazzi stepped through the grey smoke and materialized ten feet from Jack, her enormous broadsword drawn.

"Aku will be so proud of me!" she said through her fangs.

"Aku!" Jack echoed, holding his own sword at the ready. "What business has Aku with you?"

And the general laughed, the noise vacillating between a wolfish chuckle and near hysteria. Jack noticed she carried a staff on her furry hip, a simple wooden affair that wasn't half as ornate as that of the Empress. He brought his eyes up to her face again and readied himself to fight, should she decide to charge.

"Because I am proudly in his service! Don't you see, you useless, peabrained nothing? He made me powerful so I could be of service to the Empress. But too late he realized that the Empress was growing weak and stupid, so he directed me to kill her and take over! All I need is her staff, and my mission will be complete! Ah ha ha ha ha!"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Her staff is of no use to you. I guarantee that." And he kicked the remains of it towards her.

Yazzi's yellow eyes went wide and she snarled in anger and disbelief. "How did you – that thing was supposed to be unbreakable! Aku said so!"

Jack smiled grimly. "Aku says many false things. I, however, speak truly. I am not Kit Renakalli. You stand opposed to all I hold dear. And if you attack me, I will kill you. Do you surrender?"

There was a sudden BOOM from far away, and what sounded like a trickle of rain, turning gradually to hail. There was indistinct yelling. Jack had no idea what was going on. He kept his eyes trained on Yazzi. She was oddly silent, watching him and not lowering her weapon.

"Your surrender or your death!" he offered. "Answer me!"

Yazzi did not answer him with words. Instead, she let out a roar that was half dog and half something else and lunged at him with the sword. Jack narrowly avoided her thrust, jumped over her head and tried to bring a cut down on her, but she blocked him and he bounced off and away. Tired from fighting, he realized as he parried that if he kept this up too long, sooner or later he was going to make a mistake and get seriously injured – something he could not afford. That was the exact moment the hail changed. It was no longer hail, but the march of thousands of feet. Jack kept an ear on that as he faced Yazzi, and wondered if any of those feet would find the chamber.

He had little time to contemplate this. Yazzi had _massive_ spin on that broadsword. She got off a clean swipe that caught Jack cross the breastplate. It was knocked clean off him, and took the back plate with it. He looked down at his soldier-ish underwear and saw a slight red trickle of blood. One of his old chest wounds had opened up. Jack roared in frustration and returned the favor, catching Yazzi across the thigh. She yelped and bled and jumped back, totally intent on Jack. He was totally intent on her.

Neither of them saw the chamber door open.

Jack swiped again, catching her across the breastplate. His cut slit it neatly in half, without so much as grazing her fur. It fell off (along with her back plate), revealing her red top. She snarled at this display of skill and thrust forward again, but Jack blocked her and dashed for the opposite wall, panting. She took a swipe at him as he ran and grazed him along the side. Blood was dribbling out and down his leg, but he ignored it. His back to the wall, he gathered his strength for one last offensive. He had to finish this before he made another mistake.

"YAAAAAAH!"

There was a tremendous clang as sword met sword and the two warriors grappled with each other. Yazzi wasn't _quite_ as strong as Jack from this angle, but she had the advantage of having relaxed all day, while Jack was exhausted from leading an army against her. They pushed and sweated and tried to put the other off balance, first leaning one way and then another. Jack's teeth were gritted and bared with the effort. Yazzi was breathing hard, and since her breath smelled of day-old meat, Jack's scrunched eyes were watering.

"Aku has made me strong, warrior. Too strong for you!" Yazzi panted, and shoved again. "Give up!"

"NEVER!" Jack bellowed. He shoved her so hard she stumbled back a step, and took a swipe at her, but his arm was weak from all that grappling, Yazzi took the opportunity to parry.

In horror, Jack watched at his sword sailed out of his shaking hand and clattered to the floor behind Yazzi. He backed up against the wall.

"Gotcha," Yazzi panted, eyeing Jack and pointing her broadsword at different parts of him, trying to figure out the best place to stab. "Like I told you before, Renakalli – or whoever you are – I live for the hunt. You're mine. Perhaps after I kill you, I'll put your head on my wall as a warning to others."

Jack pressed his back to the wall and got ready to defend himself with his hands.

"Hmm, let me see. Yes, I think the chest will do nicely," she said, readying her broadsword for a final thrust.

She pulled back. Jack stared at her in defiance, ready to dodge.

It was over in the blink of an eye.

Just as Yazzi roared and moved to attack, Jack's sword sailed across the floor, between her legs, and nearly struck his left foot; a miracle from some lesser god. Jack reached down just as Yazzi struck (her sword got caught in the wall) and picked it up by the handle.

The she-dog howled in anger that she missed and pulled her sword from the wall so fiercely that she stumbled back, her arms away, her torso wide open. Jack pulled back and thrust forward.

The general made a nasty gurgling noise. She looked down in horror.

Jack had stabbed his _katana_ straight through her chest. Dark red blood was pooling around the wound and leaking down the front of her fighting shirt. But suddenly, there was an incoherent yell and the end of something sharp was sticking out of Yazzi towards Jack. It was sharp and blue and poking through her belly. Yazzi stared at her two fatal wounds with wide yellow eyes and coughed up blood all over her shirt. Spittle slapped onto her leg plates, too.

"Noooo …" she gasped, and stumbled to her right.

Jack withdrew his weapon quickly and shoved Yazzi so she fell on her side. There was a nasty snapping noise, like cracking glass. Jack ignored this and gazed at his fallen opponent. In truth he felt no victory here, just sadness and exhaustion. He leaned against the wall and shook his head at the irony of Yazzi Digger. She had been a fierce warrior, in control of so many lives, who nonetheless had been unable to control her own desires. Her greed and lust and dishonor had been her undoing. And now she was gone.

A sudden hiccough made Jack look up. And his eyes widened. His senses hadn't deceived him. Someone else had tied with him for the kill.

Kiki was standing just beyond Yazzi's body, white-faced, her matted hair hanging in her eyes. Blood was pooling toward her, washing over her dirty feet. She stood there unmoving, and stared. The handle of a blue glass knife, made from melted-down beads, glittered in her hand. The blade was missing.

Jack had only a moment to take this in before she fell, landing roughly on her hands and knees in Yazzi's blood. She dropped the knife handle. Jack ran to the lopsided beadmaker, hefted her up, and helped her over to the settee. The view from here was little better – the Empress and her head lay a few feet away – but the artisan didn't seem to notice or care.

"Stay here," he commanded.

She nodded. Jack wanted to say something else to her, like "thank you," but his words were drowned by a sudden crowd of filthy, bloodied women and filthy, bloodied, confused men. They were all yelling and waving their weapons, obviously prepared to fight together against some common enemy, but they stopped immediately when they saw the carnage.

Everyone stared. Robot parts and two bodies littered the floor. Ari was at the front of the line. Unt-Ork, blood-spattered and weary, still clung to her back. And Xio, muddied and stained, was right next to her. Sankra and a few healers, bloodied and torn and holding hands, were at the front as well.

"Harpis frippin' Hooleeti," Ari muttered. "What happened in here?"

Jack did not answer her. Instead, he walked over to Yazzi's body. The wooden staff glowed warmly on her stiff, cold hip, belying its insidious purpose. Just as he plucked it off her belt, someone retched.

"I smell death!" Sankra announced frantically, looking around with useless eyes. "Oh no!" she shrieked. "Where is he? Did he make it?"

"He's fine, he's right here," Ari answered, and smiled at Jack. "Digger's dead. The Empress ate it, too." That caused a murmur. Then she spotted Kiki, sitting on the settee, her lap covered in vomit. "Gui-Gao!"

Ari splashed through the general's blood and ran over to Kiki, dragging Sankra and a few healers along in her wake. Jack watched the reunion for a moment, as Kiki began to babble rapidly and Sankra translated, before turning his attention back to the wooden staff he held.

Xio jogged over with a slight limp. He bowed. "You did it. You freed the soldiers, friend!"

To emphasize this, he pointed to a nearby clump of muddy, bloody warriors. They all looked distinctly the worse for wear, but were definitely in their right minds. One had a black eye. He gave Jack a smile that looked like an open zipper and waved.

Xio peered at Yazzi's wooden staff and scratched his head. "So … wait. If you destroyed the Empress's staff, then what the heck is _this _thing?"

Jack smiled grimly. "It was Digger's. Xio?"

"Yes?"

"Stand back!"

TBC


	18. Seventeen: The Old Way

17. _The Old Way _

Jack didn't even really know why he did it. Something in his bones said it was right. He didn't argue. With a colossal whack he swung the wooden staff into the wall and it snapped in two. Something big and terrible rumbled far away. The floor shook. Black, acrid smoke spilled out of the broken staff. Jack dropped it.

And suddenly there was a deep, raspy, unpleasant noise – like a didgeridoo echoing through a sewer pipe. It started quietly but quickly increased in volume until people were covering their ears in pain, backing into each other to get away and shouting over the deafening racket.

"What did you do?" Xio bellowed in Jack's face. His eyes were tearing, and he was twitching.

"What?" Jack roared back. He'd jammed his fingers in his ears.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the noise stopped. People stared around cautiously, some wondering if it was over, others wondering if their eardrums had burst.

There was a brilliant flash of light. And then there was screaming.

It took Jack a second to see why. He looked towards the center of the chamber in alarm. The light had gone and in its place was a misty gray wraith, floating like vapor. Jack recognized the shape and drew his sword before he knew what he was doing. The smoky image of Aku himself glared at the gathered crowd, turned its fierce eyes and flaming eyebrows on Jack, and bared his horrible fangs in disgust.

"You may have succeeded this time, samurai!" the transmission bellowed so loudly that no one could miss it. "But I will live to fight you another day!"

There was a crack like thunder and the wraith was gone.

Relieved it was nothing more than an illusion, Jack sheathed his sword. He turned and beheld an utterly silent group of astonished fighters.

"Samurai?" a soldier said.

The word rippled through the crowd. Soon it was on everyone's lips, and soldiers and resistance fighters alike were moving forward to get a better look at him. Xio just smiled.

Jack nodded solemnly, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief. The Gunzai Empire was finished. There was no longer any need for deception. Ari ran to him and handed him the knife that, not so long ago, she had pressed to his throat in the infirmary. Jack accepted it.

"Under all this, there is a samurai," he explained. "His name is Jack." With a few swift strokes, he cut off his beard. Then he tied up his hair. "And you are all free."

The crowd began to babble in excitement, which turned to whooping and cheering. The joy, the realization that it was truly over, that they had won, that it was due to the samurai, that he was on _their_ side, was uncontainable. It spilled out of the chamber, washed through the crowded hallways of the palace, splashed out the doors and into the courtyard, all the way to the back edge of the enormous group of iron-clad warriors and brave slaves. All was right with the world.

Well, _nearly_ all was right with the world.

To his left, one of the healers, a blue scaly creature, was lying unconscious, one webbed hand over her eyes. Jack raised an eyebrow at this, and his thoughts immediately went to Sankra. Where had she gone? He waded through a few lines of cheering supporters (the noise level was rising in the chamber again as people threw off their armor and began to celebrate) and spotted her on the floor near the settee.

Unt-Ork and Kiki were kneeling by her side. As he shoved his way towards her, he suddenly felt quite sick and a little panicked. He ran to her, skidded into a kneel, and gathered her in his arms.

"Sankra!"

Her eyes were closed. The irises of her eyes danced under the lids and she opened them a crack.

"Ooooh," she said dizzily. "Pretty colors."

She opened her eyes all the way. The amber orbs were back, as though they'd never left. Jack stared. Sankra stared. It took both of them a moment to get their bearings.

"I can see," she whispered, and broke into a smile. "I can see! Jack, you undid the magic! Oh, and you're just as handsome as I remembered you. Maybe a little skinnier," she said, poking his belly gently, "but that's nothing I can't fix."

Jack gave her a grin so wide it was unbecoming a prince, but he didn't care. He held her close and laughed. To his great delight, she did too.

* * *

And so it went.

Dizzy healers were getting their bearings. Injured former soldiers were getting treatment. Kiki and Unt-Ork stood by and watched as Ari snarled at the prone form of Yazzi Digger. With a roar, the cat-woman stamped down on the General's chest. There were six loud cracks and Digger didn't respond. Assured the General was good and dead, Ari spat on the corpse for good measure and walked away.

Jack didn't see this grim spectacle. He and Sankra were busy trying to get out of the palace, which was packed with people. The going was slow. As they went, Jack tried to work through his chaotic time in the Empress's chamber. He had acted so much on instinct and relied so much on spirit that, even though he now had the time to think about it, he could make sense of very little. Fortunately, Sankra had teased a story out of Kiki; she filled Jack in as they made their way out, hand in hand.

"So when you broke the staff, um, the first one," she said, stepping over a robot arm, "the soldiers got their minds back. The fighting stopped. A whole mess of us from Tarrenko went in to try and find you. We knew you'd probably met Digger and were fighting her. Ari was really scared."

Jack felt a firm squeeze against his knuckles and took that to mean that Ari wasn't the only one who had been worried.

"Anyway, Kiki was part of the group, but she can't walk so well, and everybody was excited and running like fools, and she fell behind. She took a wrong turn. It was a total accident that she found you two first. Yazzi didn't see her, and when you lost your sword, she kicked it back to you."

That explained the minor miracle.

"Why did she strike?" Jack wondered aloud. "Digger was dead anyway."

Sankra shrugged. "She said she did it for Kaola."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Kaola?"

Sankra's smile was grim. "Kaola was the name of a monkey woman she worked next to in the barracks."

Jack swallowed. He remembered vividly what had happened to that creature.

"But Kiki speaks two ways," Sankra continued, "the common tongue, and this weird dialect from her village. In that dialect … 'kaola' means 'everybody.'"

For a moment, Jack was just numb. Then he nodded.

* * *

The aftermath of the battle was unsurprisingly chaotic, grimy, and bittersweet. By the time the crowd had thinned reasonably and started to organize itself, it was nearly dawn. Most of the soldiers left standing had begun to round up troops for a very important mission: returning to the bases and opening the doors. Most of the resistance fighters left standing were coordinating efforts to reunite people with their families or friends or fellow villagers. It was very much a word-of-mouth or scream-your-head-off-and-hope-someone-answered-you sort of affair.

And it soon became apparent that a great number of people were not answering the call. Despite the best efforts of the resistance and the healers, many on either side had been gravely injured or killed. Those who could be saved were being treated by the healers of all the bases or given first aid by anyone who was capable. Sankra had treated Jack's wounds before they'd even left the castle. When they reached the castle courtyard, she was pulled off somewhere to work and Jack happened upon Unt-Ork.

The sun was just coming up as he wandered out of the castle, holding the alien by the hand as she trotted along beside him. The battlefield was still smoky and grey from the hand-bombs. Figures lay scattered about like rag dolls. The ground was caked with blood. Small packs of "finders" were running in every direction, calling out for the living, hailing healers for the wounded, and counting the dead.

Unt-Ork stared around at the devastation and blinked. She had a large smudge of grime across her cheeks. It soon developed a few clear tracks in it, and she sniffed.

"We won, but we lost."

Jack privately agreed with that wry assessment, but he tried to console her anyway. "Do not cry," he said. "Think of better things. Think of your freedom. You do not have to wash clothes or carry water or be afraid. You can go anywhere you like, now."

"That's the problem," Unt-Ork said bitterly. "I can't. The Empire invaded our little settlement and came after me because I was so precious to my people. The troops were merciless. They…" She wiped her eyes and started again. "I have nowhere to go. No one is looking for me. I'm all alone, samurai."

Jack, who knew something about being alone, nodded. He understood her pain and loss all to well. But to say this was to cheapen it. So he picked her up, let her damp grey face fall against his shoulder, and very quietly said the next best thing.

"You must not talk this way, small one. Surely there is a place for you. I will find it."

Balancing her on his hip, he walked off into the mist and the smoke.

* * *

Sankra was kneeling in a mud puddle, healing a soldier's badly wounded leg. The bone was broken and jutting out through the skin. As her hands glowed blue and she shoved it back into place, the soldier cried out weakly through cracked lips. He'd already lost a lot of blood.

"I'm sorry!" she snapped, frustrated that she couldn't give him anything for the pain. "Hang on, this is it!"

With one final push, the bone knitted, and she turned to mending the muscle above it and closing the wound. By the time she was done, the soldier had fainted. She wiped her forearm across her sweaty brow and nodded at her dusty assistant, who called for two able-bodied men to take the wounded man away.

She was exhausted. She had been repairing injuries for two hours now. The sun was up fully, warm on her back, but it did nothing to dull the ache in it. She was only giving her charges the bare minimum of treatment, but she was getting dizzy and her vision was starting to blur – signs she should stop, or at least take a break.

This was, of course, not an option.

"Next!" Sankra yelled.

Someone with a broken arm was approaching her (somewhat warily) when Ari ran up to her. She was frantic; her green eyes were wide with horror.

"Sankra, you have to come with me right now!"

"What's going on?"

"Just hurry! I found him under two corpses! He's nearly dead! He's got this massive side wound! You have to save him! PLEASE!"

"All right, all right, I'm coming!"

She rolled up her sleeves, ran off after Ari, and wondered what dying soldier could merit such hysterics from the normally resilient cat-woman.

By the time she reached the soldier in question, Ari was standing off a pace, hugging herself around the middle. Two bodies were piled on each other and one lay still on the ground, wearing a helmet and leg guards but no chest plate. Whatever the soldier was, it wasn't human; it was covered in bright orange fur, and it had a tail. Sankra fell to her knees, waited for her vision to stop tunneling, and pressed down with her palms on the soldier's side, putting all of her skill to work. Her hands glowed blue around a gaping, gushing wound and slowly, achingly, it closed.

But the soldier did not move or groan, or even cry out. Ari's breath hitched up. She looked at Sankra for an answer. The healer felt his neck for a pulse, and his chest for a heartbeat. She found neither. She pushed down on the limp fighter several times, willing his heart to beat. After a few minutes of trying, she quit. It was over.

She sat back, palms in the dirt, sweat beading on her forehead, and shook her head. Ari had eyes for nothing but the body.

"I'm sorry," Sankra said quietly. "I did my best."

Ari sniffed and nodded. A tear rolled down her gritty cheek. "I know."

Sankra asked her question, almost afraid of the word. "Anook?"

Ari nodded again. Another tear slipped out. Among all the grime and blood on the battlefield, her nose was failing her, but her eyes had never lied.

"It has to be. I've had so many nightmares," she said, and crept towards the fallen soldier. "I just never thought it would end th-this way." With quiet grace she sank down next to the body and put her hand on the fighter's shoulder. "I lost myself out there, swinging like a wild thing. For all I know, _I_ did this to him." She gulped back a sob. "And if I did, I might as well take my own life."

Sankra was bewildered. Ari crying was one thing. Ari threatening suicide was quite another. The healer crawled over.

"You aren't serious. Please tell me you're not serious."

Ari did not answer. A cold gust came up, ruffling her fur and playing with Sankra's matted hair. Between the smoke and the steam and the month of March, everything had briefly gone grey and dark.

Sankra put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "We should go. Come on. They'll want to bury him or something."

Ari blinked and a few more tears dotted her armor. "In a minute. I just … I just need to say goodbye. In the Old Way."

She knelt in a stilted, formal style next to the body, and delicately laid one clawed hand on the dead soldier's still chest.

"Anook," she addressed him. Her voice broke. "Husband mine, may we meet again where the Great Mountain touches the sky. May we laugh and dance in that place where the rivers are full of fish, and there is no sorrow, and there is no pain." Two tears landed on his fur. "I am yours until the end of all. Goodbye, star-over-me."

By the end of it, she was shaking so badly she could hardly get the words out. But they came, every one of them, and when she done she at last gave herself over to grief. She pulled the dead cat-man up into an embrace, kissed his ice-cold cheek, and wailed.

And Sankra, who knew something about loss, let her be.

* * *

That was how Jack found them. He broke through the mist, still holding Unt-Ork, and stopped dead at the sight. Unt-Ork gasped. Jack set her down and she ran to Ari, who was still clinging to the body like a lifeline.

Sankra looked at him blankly and waved him over. Cautiously, he moved and sat down next to her. Sankra took his hand and squeezed. He squeezed back. Neither said anything.

All was still and quiet save Ari's rocking and tears. She was lost inside herself, intent on the being in her arms, intent on finishing the little ritual.

"ANOOOOOOK!" she shouted.

She meant it as a final goodbye. She was sending his name, his spirit, out into the great beyond. She was not listening for an answer.

So naturally she, Jack, Sankra, and Unt-Ork were stunned to hear one.

"Ari?"

A hoarse, scratchy baritone voice was calling her name, not four feet from them. Four heads swiveled in the same direction. A clawed hand waved through the mist, rending it, and a rather bewildered former soldier staggered over to their little group. He wore no helmet, so Jack could see that he was a cat-creature like Ari. He had brilliant orange fur the same shade as the dead soldier, wide golden eyes that blinked out from filthy wire-rimmed spectacles, and a heavily bandaged left arm.

Ari stared. She looked at the soldier with that empty, shocked look reserved for catastrophes and the unbelievable.

The new arrival stumbled over and fell to his knees before her. He was looking at her with the same frightened, dazed expression she was giving him. They held each other's eyes for a long time. Then finally, gently, he reached out and ran his fingers through the fur on her face.

"Ari," he murmured.

"Anook?" she asked tentatively, her mind still a bit elsewhere. Her voice crackled like dead leaves.

Anook smiled. He gently pried the dead soldier from his wife's grip, lowered the body back to the ground, and moved closer to her. He embraced her with his good arm and quickly pressed his lips to hers.

"Ari," he breathed in her ear.

Ari breathed, too. Her husband's scent was so overwhelmingly _him_ that it finally broke through all the smells and horror of the battlefield, the familiar smell tickling some warm corner of her brain. And suddenly, she saw reality for what it was: a giant yes. She was here, in the midst of death and destruction. But yes, Anook was alive. Yes, it was all over. Yes, everything would be okay.

Ari began to weep again, this time for a completely different reason.

"Anook." The word was a growl of need in the back of her throat.

Their lips met; their teeth clacked. They held each other tight and began to kiss quite passionately. Ari's fur got mussed. Anook's glasses were quickly knocked askew. They both fell over on the muddy ground and kept going, heedless of the far-off footsteps and the shouting … and their immediate audience.

Unt-Ork smiled. Sankra softly said, "Wow." Jack stared at the ground and turned beet red.

It seemed an eternity before the couple came up for air.

It was enough, for the moment, to be alive.

TBC


	19. Epilogue: Ikinuku

Epilogue: _Ikinuku_

In the days that followed, the Empire got about the age-old business of fading into memory. Communication systems had quickly been set up, using the central palace as a command center of sorts. Lovers, husbands and wives, mothers and children, friends and partners immediately began to use it and reach out to each other across the former Gunzai kingdom.

Within two weeks, they were meeting and uniting in small units. Families. Groups of families. Tribes. Villages. Communities.

Within three weeks, new settlements were being erected. Most of the materials were being obtained by dismantling the bases. The imprisoned soldiers at Tarrenko, Jilken, Spum, Filos, and Gorovi had, like the fighters on the field, happily regained their minds the moment Jack broke the Empress's staff. Once the battle was over they were eager to seek out their loved ones and help demolish the fortresses they had once guarded. Messengers were running every which way, spreading the news and trying to point people toward their new homes.

But the job of rebuilding would be very difficult, on many levels. Villages had been destroyed. People had been killed. There was grieving to do, and sadness to cast off, and lives to continue.

And Jack, with his quest to destroy Aku, could not stop to be a part of it for very long. He traveled with Sankra for a few weeks, helping her with the tedious task of finding the rest of her village. Fortunately, they had company on the hunt. They managed first to gather Kiki, Errol, Joinu and Kleigo. And when Ari had recovered more from finding her husband, Sankra gently offered to take the cat-woman with her and bring her into the village fold. Ari accepted the offer, on the condition that Unt-Ork would come with her. The little alien happily grabbed her around the leg. The newly formed band of eight headed off together down the road.

In the end, they only found 168 of the original 200 women. Most of the survivors were not in good shape. Some had been forced to be "nurses" like Ari, and while the cat-woman had escaped, others had contracted diseases. Sankra wasn't sure how much she'd be able to do for them. Those who had done hard labor had been worked to the bone and needed rest and care. Villagers who had survived with all their limbs and vital organs intact were able to help, but they would all be living in hide tents and eating Borko beans until their fields recovered.

Jack left on a blustery morning in late April. He was dressed in his white _gi_. He and Sankra were again standing in the road. Beyond Sankra, Jack could see the little shantytown of tents that had once been the mysterious, beautiful village of O-mashen-gril-yah-weh-dega.

They looked at each other.

"I won't ask you to come back again," she said, finally. All at once she looked tremendously old. "Anyway, if you defeat Aku and his magic sends you back to your own time, it'll be impossible."

"Yes."

She wiggled her moccasin in the dust and looked up. "I don't think I ever thanked you properly."

"For what?"

"For everything you've done for me and my village. For everything you've done for everybody in this world."

"It is my duty…"

"Oh, shut up about your duty. Nobody put a spear to your head, Jack. You do what you do because you're a good man."

Jack was silent. She stepped close to him.

"And just in case something goes wrong with Aku and you can't get home … well, I make a pretty good stew."

Jack smiled. "I will take that into consideration."

"Good. Here." She handed him a small bag of provisions, which he hooked to his obi.

Then she reached for her neck and removed her necklace, a simple leather string with a small pink bottle as its pendant. In one smooth motion she stood on tiptoe and tossed it around Jack's neck. It settled at his collar and she gently tucked the bottle into the fold of his robe. Jack reached for it to pull it off, but she took his hand.

"Sankra, I cannot take this."

"Of course you can," she said. "Uta's essence helped me even when she was gone. Maybe she can help you, too."

He nodded slightly, accepting the gift. His stern facade quivered.

"I believe this is goodbye."

"It probably is," she said. "Just know that wherever you go, or whatever happens … I love you."

Jack had the words inside him, but they wouldn't come. Instead, he caught her up in a fierce embrace.

Finally, they pulled away. Sankra wiped her eyes, then his, with a little laugh.

"Go on then, warrior. You have things to do."

She smiled. Jack smiled back, bowed deeply, and set off down the road. And once again, she watched him leave. The tears ran freely down her face, but she bit her lip and made no sound. It was better this way.

* * *

Disgusted, Aku slammed the flame curtain closed. This whole thing had been a disaster from start to finish, as far as he was concerned. First that impudent pest destroyed Gunzai, and now he was helping these remote villages rebuild! He had their support, now! Their very _hearts_! It was nauseating. 

"Oh, my brave samurai!" he said, in a high hooting tone, clasping his clawed hands and batting his flaming eyes. "I love you! Don't leave me!" He snorted. "Blagh! Love makes me sick! It is the _one thing_ in this miserable world that I cannot seem to destroy!"

He began to pace.

"But now, I see my chance. The Samurai believes he is stronger because he thinks he has the … _love_! The love of that _idiot healer_! Ha ha ha ha! FOOL! You will come to me, arrogant as before, and I will strike you down like your worthless father! For love protects _no one_ from Aku!"

Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed.

And Aku flew into a wild fit of blood-freezing laughter.

**THE END?

* * *

**

Dear Reader,

_Ikinuku_ means "to survive (hardship), endure, or live through (a catastrophe)." This story has been a study in endurance for me. I left it dangling for a year at a midway point because I was not feeling inspired enough to finish it (very unusual), finally picked it up again this summer, and completed the tale, only to finish posting it in December of this year. In the intervening time my writing has been informed by things as disparate as the Sandman series and Harry Potter. Hopefully this hasn't affected my Jack style too much.

Thanks for reading (and reviewing, if you're so inclined). As always, it's a blast to write for this crowd.

Till next time …

Kiki


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